#today i have a communion folks

[dinodinodin0]

He brought you to me, pretty girl

Pairings: Eddie x innocent! reader

Warnings: fem!reader, Christianity, references and setting to church, daddy kink, oral sex (F!recieving) manipulation of innocent reader so obligated *dubcon*

Part one • part two

The next day, you woke up to Eddie long gone, your window still up as the cold morning breeze hit your face. You yawn and stretch, jaw still slightly sore.

You hear your dad calling you down to the table, "y/n! Come eat breakfast pumpkin!"

You stretch and put on your bunny slippers, walking down the steps and into your kitchen.

"woah, what's up with the pajamas Y/N? It's 9:00 on the dot, you're usually up by now," you mother questioned, checking your forehead and clicking her tongue, as she found no evidence of a cold.

"oh, sorry momma, I had a long night." You said, sitting down at the table and intently watching your dad set down a plate of waffles. You pick up your fork before your mom slaps your wrist.

"ah, grace first year young lady! What has gotten into you this morning?" She said, gesturing to you as she made eye contact with your father.

You apologized and paced a quick, thank you for blessing this food, before scarfing down your breakfast.

You dad walked over to his seat and sat down, tucking a napkin into his collar.

"you alright pumpkin? You've just been a bit off today is all. You never forget grace," he says, placing his hand on yours.

"oh, I'm sorry daddy. I guess I just got to bed late. I had a boy over."

Your mother gasped but your dad kept his surprise down, asking you what you two had done while he was over.

"you didn't bring him into your room did you?" Prodded your mother.

Nuh uh, you shook your head. It was technically true, he had brought himself in. And anyway, Eddie told you not to tell your parents, like you wouldn't talk about a confession. What you did with Eddie was for his eyes and gods, and that alone.

"oh, just some prayer."

You parents sighed and smiled. They never suspected their beautiful, selfless and faithful child to be rebellious anyway.

After mealtime, your father went off to work and you told your mother you'd be helping out at the church.

At church, you did your usual morning rounds and said good morning to everyone volunteering, and the clergy's.

"hello father! How was your night at the church yesterday?" You asked, greeting him with a nod.

"oh you know y/n, the usual. Had some folks stay after communion, and had some come in for confession." He said, reviewing the schedule for the week.

"well I thought last mass was great father, wonderful as always," you smiled to him, continuing on your volunteering.

After a few hours of working, the older church workers had told you they had it handled, and to enjoy the rest of your day.

"alright, goodbye misses Jones! I hope you have more luck with your petunias. Have a good Monday father!" You call out, walking out of the main doors.

You look and startle, gasping as you see the unexpected sight of your boyfriend.

"what is with you and startling me Eddie?" You say, laughing and prancing over to him.

"why do you call the priest father?"

"oh- well it's just a sign of respect, he's our lea-" he cuts you off.

"no. Like, why not call him daddy or something," he laughs, gesturing for you to grab his hand.

You do, giggling at the thought.

"like I call my father? Oh, I get it! That's so silly."

He walks you over to his bands grarage spot,

"you should call me daddy."

You peer up at him, confused. You didn't like questioning him, but you had to admit you were perplexed.

"do you want me to call you daddy, Ed's?"

"well, I mean, it's a sign of respect isn't it? When you confess to your priest, you don't call him by his first name. And like I said, what we do is kinda like confession right?"

You nod, smiling up at him, "okay daddy!" You giggle.

He chuckled at you.

After watching him and his band mates practice, you clap supportively at them.

"you guys did so well! I love the drums, Gareth. Very... Drum-y!" You say, playing air drums briefly.

Everyone laughs at your compliment. Eddie puts his guitar back in it's case and sets it onto his back.

You realize just how strong he is. If you attempted to wear that around town, eventually you're sure it's weight would have you on your back. The guitar was huge comparitivly to you.

The feeling was back. You felt your skin warm up, cheeks flush. You felt your parts get hot, and you felt yourself grow deprived.

You get up, and tug on Eddie's jacket sleeve.

"yes doll face?"

The feelings back, you whisper anxiously.

"awh baby.. d'you wanna get outta here and pray with me then?" He questions caringly, rubbing the sides of your arm.

You nod, feeling him grab your hand and lead you to his van. He helps you up, lifting you by your waist, and getting in on the driver's side.

He calls to his band mates and tells them he'll talk to them tomorrow, then brings his arm to the back of your seat, backing out of their driveway.

He drives faster than you're used to, hand placed firmly on your thigh.

You feel yourself grow needier, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction.

Eddie notices, and brings his hand slyly to your center, rubbing you with his palm.

You mewl quietly, tugging your skirt over his hands as he continues to hold his hand to your warm parts. You grind up into his hand as he chuckles at how pathetic you were for him.

"we're here." He says, removing his hand as you whine at the sudden lack of contact.

"where's here?" You say, curiously.

"absolutely nowhere. I brought you somewhere nobody would see us. Private, remember? This is our secret." He tells you, watching you writhe in his seat, "hop in the back and lay down."

You do as he says, climbing over and laying down on his back seats.

"you're so pretty like this, sweet girl. So needy to worship." He cooes, prying open your legs, "and you're so wet for me, arnt you?"

You whine as he inspects you, sliding your panties off and biting his lip at the sight of your cunt.

"you're so beautiful sweetheart."

"thank you eddi-"

He grips your thighs tightly and looks up to you.

"what did you just call me?"

You swallow, eyebrows knitted in worry.

"thank you daddy."

"attagirl."

He shifts closer to your heat.

'if you pray to me well enough, I can help you with your feeling again. I want you to beg me."

You jump at the opportunity, full of neediness.

"p-please daddy, please help me again. I need you," you plead, voice desperate and waivering.

"I'm going to put my mouth on you, can you beg for that pretty girl?" He says, rubbing your slit with his thumb.

You gasp, "goodness.. please put your mouth on me daddy, I need you down there, please "

He smirks up at you, and slowly licks a stripe from your asshole to your clit, chuckling at your attempts to stifle your sounds.

You slap your hand over your mouth as he continues to lick you, circling your clit.

"t-hank you daddy, " you cry, incredibly sensitive. You've never done this kind of thing, and every sensation was new to you. It felt amazing, you knew god was rewarding you for your efforts, and you were so greatful for Eddie, your daddy.

He sucks on your clit and groans, letting you feel the vibrations from his voice.

"I'm gonna add two fingers, alright doll?"

You barely get to react as you abruptly feel a stretching sensation, having you whimper in pain.

"daddy, daddy it hurts, I-is it supposed to?" You whine, as he gently pumps his fingers into you.

He hisses at how tight you are around him, "of course sweetheart, how else could you prove yourself to me? God makes things challenging for a reason, doesn't he?"

You nod and bear it, painful whimpers evolving into pleasurable moans.

"daddy, gosh, daddy i-i have to.. can't hold it," you cry.

"hold what baby?" He presses down on your abdomen, watching you pant.

"i-i don't know.. I feel something building down there again-" your legs attempt to close, but he prys them open.

"you gonna cum sweet girl?" You nod.

"My poor baby. C'mon, you can cum baby," he taunts you as you feel a wave if pleasure wash over you. You gush on his fingers and tongue, breathing heavily.

He cooes at you, "look at that, You're such a good girl for me. Cumming on my fingers like you did just now,"

You watch as he cleans you, then sucking yourself off of his fingers.

Your eyes feel heavy again, your body exhausted from being pushed to such limits. You grab for him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he places a kiss onto your forehead.

He lays down with you, cuddling you and rubbing your waist.

"my good girl."

#eddie x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie Munson fanfic series #eddie munson series #innocent!reader #corruption #perv!eddie

[carrickbender]

St Patricks Day

In front of our house, the starry plough flag of James Connolly flies proudly today. Connolly was a Irish Socialist and Republican who was executed as one of the leaders of the 1916 Easter Rising. We celebrate he, Patrick Pearse, and all of the women and men who carried the banner of revolution. And we celebrate those who ran from Crown rule in Ireland, and made new lives in towns like Saskatoon, Boston, Butte, Durango, and carried their Irishness to the far corners of the earth.

For my family, it's also a day to remember people like my uncle Bill(Butte Irish), a hard drinking union tough who would would weep at hearing Liam Clancy sing but get 'animated' talking about Ian Paisley and marching season on garvaghy road in Northern Ireland. And amongst all the people I remember today, my grandmother Glenna is particularly on my mind. She impressed on me at a young age that, "even your college educated Irish family were greeted with signs that said 'workers wanted, Irish need not apply'- its our job to welcome the opressed, to show them kindness, and help them build new lives'

How sadly so many people of Irish heritage in America have forgotten those lessons, and have picked up the mantle of the hatred of immigrants, when they too were hated not so many years ago.

In mass this morning, our priest gave what was probably his last sermon thanks to pancreatic cancer. He's a wonderfully feisty man who speaks a few languages and sings the communion prayer, something which... yeah, even with his shaky voice, is moving... anyhow, his sermon was about the seeing the divine and being the hands of the divine in our communities by taking care of the sick, the poor, the oppressed, and being servants. From an old school Episcopal priest, it's always good to hear the same message as I got from those who raised me, and a great message of renewal in the times where you'd think all religious folks were the angry immigrant hating crowd.

Anyhow, it's late, but never give up hope. Like the motto says, Tiocfaidh ár lá! (Our day will come).

Here's a song for those I've lost and loved I remember this day. Thanks for reading, and much love to you!

#me #this is my life #26+6=1 #st patricks day #we had cottage pie #and good company #love this #Spotify

[valya-dudycz-lupescu]

Bread & Salt

Today is the 32nd anniversary of Ukrainian Independence. It is also day 546 since Russia began its war in Ukraine. On August 24, 1991, Ukraine regained its independence from the Soviet Union. The day is a powerful reminder of Ukrainian democracy and self-rule, and we celebrate the courage and bravery of the Ukrainian people.

Last week, at the Parliament of the World's Religions, I participated in a ritual performance that featured goddesses from around the world offering messages to the audience, each one wearing a beautiful mask hand-made by artist Lauren Raine.

Each of us was tasked with writing something that spoke to the challenges we see around the planet: pollution, starvation, inequality, war.

It was my honor to wear a mask of the goddess Lada, as well as my embroidered folk costume from Ukraine. I carried bread and salt on top of an embroidered rushnyk, in a traditional greeting.

In Ukraine, bread and salt are offered as a sacred tradition, incorporated into celebrations that include weddings, funerals, and holidays. I asked my aunt Katia Hrynewycz, who is a baker and the owner of Chicago Cake Art, to bake a special circular bread (korovai) that could be used in the performance and then shared with the audience.

There are so many ancient ideas and stories tied to bread in Ukrainian culture: The grain is symbolic of prosperity and fertility, the circle a symbol of eternity and community, the salt exemplifies wealth and also protection. The bread may be adorned with trees, braids, birds, and more, depending on the occasion. As is the case with Ukrainian pysanky and embroidery, every object that adorns Ukrainian bread is symbolic of a blessing or intention for the people who will receive it.

On Ukrainian Independence Day, I wanted to share Lada's message:

Lada's Message We come to the threshold with bread and salt, our greeting since before maps and borders. We say Vitayemo to welcome guests and offer communion with treasures of the rich black soil we call chornozem: grains we grind to bake this holiness, salt precious and pulled from the ground, to preserve, to give life flavor. Everything we have loved and grown and lost and buried, is in that black earth. When we say Vitayemo, we are inviting you into our home and into our story, with wheat grown from the heart of our Mother, and salt from her seas and stones, We are sharing a part of ourselves, a part of our ancestors, our roots deep in that fertile soil. When we say Vitayemo, we are telling you that we see you. and we will remember the way you receive our gifts: Will you show gratitude? Will you take nothing more than what was offered? Will you share something of yourself? Will you leave the space better than when you entered? We are living the legacy of betrayal— what happens to bread and salt when all is blood and butchering? When we say Vitayemo, we enter into relationship— I am saying that I am open to you. Can you feel the opening of my heart? Do you see the ripping open of my heart? Will you watch the bleeding of all who are held in my heart? How will you cross the threshold? ~Valya Dudycz Lupescu

Слава Україні!  Героям слава!

#ukraine #Слава Україні #The Parliament of the World's Religions #Goddess Speaks #vitayemo #bread and salt #hospitality #lada #goddess #slavic mythology #ukrainian mythology #ukraine's independence day #welcome

[feydfuckernation]

ONE THING I WANT TO KNOW ABOUT YOU 🫵🏻

how was your day, what did you do uwu ❤️

one (1) thing you want to know about me

GOLDFINCH MY LOVE 🦁❤️ honestly not much tbh my folks and i already celebrated easter on good friday and took communion but today was mostly just a day to sleep in and relax and work on my chess wip before going back to work next week since i have a VERY busy week ahead of me since it's the end of the fiscal year so i'm a little 🥴 thinking about it but hOPEFULLY i won't have to work a ton of overtime (<- delusional)

#also i may or may not have bought rdr2 on sale but i haven't played it yet so nO SPOILERS SHHH #answered #gggoldfinch

[wesleyhill]

You Will Love

A homily on Mark 12:28-34 preached in a service of Holy Communion at Western Theological Seminary, Holland, Michigan, on the Friday after the Third Sunday in Lent 2023

A few moments ago, I announced that the portion I just read from Mark was “the Gospel of the Lord.”

Gospel is one of those churchy words that sounds theological and religious to most of us, probably, but in the world of the New Testament, it was an ordinary word that just meant “good news” or maybe something like “happy announcement.” It’s like that thing that never seems to happen on internet news sites: a headline that makes you say “hooray!”

So here is the question: how is our reading for this morning good news? Is it good news?

One way we might be tempted to answer is that Jesus is showing us a better interpretation of the Hebrew Bible, what we Christians call “the Old Testament,” than the legalistic, nit-picky, fastidious interpretation of his Jewish opponents. If they are fixated on ritual purity, animal sacrifices, and separating themselves from sinners, then Jesus is saying, “No, it’s not about being ‘holier-than-thou.’ It’s about love. Love God, love your neighbor. That’s it. That’s what true religion is all about.”

That’s how a lot of us understand Jesus, I imagine. He came to simplify things. His teaching is about majoring on the majors. He came to say, “Forget about purity culture. Give up offering sacrifices. Stop worrying about religious observances. Just love. Love people. Be kind. Be good to each other.” Or maybe, “Do better,” as we often say to myopic legalists today.

The problem with this way of understanding Jesus, though, is that it uses Judaism as a foil for his supposedly more enlightened religion. But in his response to the scribe, Jesus was not saying anything other than what Jews already believed. Rabbi Akiva, whom the Talmud calls the Chief of the Sages, said the same thing: “you shall love your neighbor as yourself… This is the encompassing principle of the Law.” Jacob Neusner, in his book A Rabbi Talks with Jesus, says that when Jesus sums up the Law as commanding love of God and love of neighbor, he “simply reviews well-known teachings of the Torah of Moses… With that and much else that is good Torah-teaching, no faithful Jew would want to argue.”

The point, then, is that we can’t hear our Gospel reading today as “good news” by saying that it’s good only as it contradicts Judaism.

So in what sense is it “good news,” if it is?

I want to suggest that, in a certain sense, we need to hear it as bad news before we hear it as good news. The great preacher and writer Frederick Buechner, who I know means a lot to a lot of folks in this room, says that “the Gospel must be heard as tragedy first before it can be heard as a comedy.” I think that’s exactly right, and my guess is that you may have already been hearing it that way this morning.

Jesus says in our Gospel, Love God, and love your neighbor as you love yourself. This is, in a very real and important sense, not good news at all. Because when I hear those words, one of the first things I realize is all the ways I haven’t loved God and my neighbor — all the ways I don’t love God and my neighbor.

I’m painfully aware of my indifference toward God, my neglect of prayer and praise and gratitude. I think of all the ways I fail to love my family, how I ignore my godchildren’s need for attention. I think of how I’ve failed to love you, my students and colleagues, by preferring my own agendas or comforts or private projects.

I want to do what Jesus says here — I want to love God, and I want to love you, my neighbor — but often I don’t. In a few moments, we’re going to say these words to God: “we confess that we have sinned against you… by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.”

The Gospel is a tragedy before it is a comedy.

But the Gospel — this Gospel we have read today — is also a comedy, a happy piece of news, an announcement that will make you glad.

Martinus de Boer has pointed out that the verbs here are in the future tense, which means that we could translate the Greek like this: “You will love the Lord your God with all your heart… you will love your neighbor as yourself.”

Jesus says these are “commandments,” they’re imperatives that we are supposed to do, and we’d expect imperatives to be in the future tense. But they are also, from a theological vantage point and in a very real and reassuring way, promises of what will be true of us, by God’s gracious determination. God promises us: “You will love me, and you will, by my Spirit, love your neighbors. I will see to it that you do.”

In just a few moments, we are going to receive the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus, the one who spoke these words and who lived them out utterly, to the end, loving God his Father and loving all of us, his neighbors, all the way to death. 

God has promised to put Christ’s life into us, to help us each day to become more and more like Jesus who loved... and loves. 

Here is what C. S. Lewis called “big medicine and strong magic.” Come, taste and see that he is good.

Amen.

[animaledge65]

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[wytfut]

Deities...

Well...   it obvious, I dwell on topics. Probably too much. But an earworm will get into my itty bitty head.... and will not stop, on and off all day. Sometimes when I come here to write, I come too early. But my head just doesn’t have the patience to wait. Then I end up editing. This very well maybe one of those times.

My topic here, may insult some folks. Not my purpose. And it may look small and petty. Also not my purpose. 

Nothing on this blog site I write is to change minds/insult anyone. Nor is it to make me look better or pity. Its my opinion well thought out or not. Hopefully its somewhat entertaining, and maybe you’ll go “hmmm”....  No, I’m not better than your or anyone else. Please just let me be me.

I grew up in a “hard core” Methodist family. It comes from the mostly German community out N. W. of Grand Island called Boelus, where my blood line comes from. 

Both sets of my farming Grandparents were involved in a big way with the local Methodist church. 

On one side of the family it wasn’t unusual to break into a bible study, or prayer at family get togethers. 

One of my favorite Uncles, was a Methodist Minister. I still admire his history/humor/understanding.... just general presense. This guy.... wow.

As I grew up, attending church was mandatory, until I reached 16, and was working at the local Cooper Lincoln movie theatre. Hours would have me coming home late, and hard to get up early. Yeah, I’ll admit it.. I liked that. 

Previously in time, I was in choir, boy scouts, God and Country, Sunday school, and more at times. Don’t forget communion. 

Once in hi school an interesting Teacher, brought to my attention that maybe Christianity may not be the cure all. Something I had never considered. Being Methodist was very boring to me, and was just something I just had to do, like it or not. Other churches I had attended thru funerals/weddings, I found no better. 

Then in college, one of my classes had a lecture from a civil disobedient Native American. His lecture set me off away from the church far and beyond. Honestly, he didn’t talk much about religion, but he brought forth a lot of questions that I could apply to many things I wondered/questioned in my exposure of life.

Things I ponder. Christianity is a smaller portion, of the world religions than what the churches tend to teach. Islam and Muslims are a much larger portion.

Many religions parallel.... not exactly, but similar. And boy howdy the denominations really do.

Many religions have extreme branches of definition. From peace and pleasure, to blood and destroy. 

I think of these things, and witnessed 2 faced folks attending church regularly...  

In the late 60′s I witnessed the “hippy” generation, and huge numbers of the Church’s youth leaving.

Why do churches have to have sooooooooo  much money?  

With a bit of history diving, churches were very influential in politics, many times thorough out history. The bible has been rewritten, and edited many times. Seemingly to make the rules fit to someone's advantage, other than the gospel/church community? I’m not the best person do define bible verses, but some of the context over the years has changed dramatically. 

As we advance technically, another thought comes about. Church not that long ago, was a source of entertainment/community/linking/socializing with others. Especially before radio and/or TV.  I know of several folks of the older generation, missing church was mentally hard, as they’d miss their friends.  Very similar to today and social media via www. 

How do I roll?  I don’t consider myself a Christian, or affiliated with any other religion. Thats too involved for me...  even stressful now. 

If a person tries thru out their life, to be a good person. I think this is all there is to it. As humans we fall down all the time. but as long as we get back up, and keep trying to do the right thing....   that’s it. Yes, the definition of “doing the right thing” can be all over the place. I didn’t say I was good at this.... 

The people that are very good at this (luck, fate, skill) will be remembered. This remembrance is my heaven. I hope when it all ends, I’m remembered as a good person and there are a few good stories about me.

I refuse to bad mouth religions (I have in humor... sorry), and respect them all. I don’t “pray”, but have been known to talk to myself, or my favorite “past” people. Its obvious, religion works for lots of people, very well. Guess I question to many things.

It gets me by daily. I don’t know of any high anxiety that perplexes me. I feel I have a large community around me. I’ve witnessed this community supporting my family several times.  

And best of all...   I’m a pretty happy kind of guy. 

My luck, I maybe completely wrong... that’s the way it usually works for me. But as a past Methodist,.....   God is all forgiving. So as I stand at the pearly gates, there will be a sign hanging on the podium “walk on in”, there will be no judgement ....   I’ll just be Bruce and walk in... 

Watch your step!

[barbaramoorersm]

June 11, 2023

June 11, 2023

The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ

Deuteronomy 8:2-3,14b-16a

Moses reminds the people of the way in which God eased their hunger with manna in the desert.

Psalm 147

The Psalmist reminds the people of how God fed them with wheat and security.

 1 Corinthians 10: 16-17

Paul shares his belief that we are one body receiving the “cup of blessing and the “body of Christ.”

Sequence

This poem/hymn, both the longer and shorter version speak of the ways God shares spiritual food with us.

John 6: 51-58

Jesus shares another one of his “I am” statements when he shares with the crowd this phrase.  “I am the living bread that came down from heaven.”

 The list of beautiful celebrations following Easter ends today with a feast often called, “Corpus Christi or, “The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ.”

When we reflect on the “I am” statements Jesus makes, they generally focus on everyday items and activities.  For example, “light, salt, bread, the way, the truth, the life, and shepherding.”  Their simplicity makes them much more understandable.  But reflection on them and their value has a deeper meaning than we often notice.  Today he speaks of himself as “bread” but adds what kind of bread he is.  “The bread of life.”  He connects bread and wine with his flesh and blood. And he connects them to our individual lives.

These words were and are difficult for some.  Some even left his company when he first shared them.  And indeed, within our Christian traditions there are a variety of views that range from “the real presence of Jesus,” to “the memory of Jesus,” or “the representation” of Jesus.  But among all these views there is a level of respect and presence.

For a few moments let us return to the commonness of the “I am statements” of Jesus.  They deal with everyday reality, life, and experience.  Salt, light, and bread.  I wonder why Jesus uses them in relationship to himself.  What are some of the meanings he may be sharing surrounding his use of bread and wine.

They both were among the most common forms of food and drink the ancient Israelites enjoyed on a regular basis.  In many ways that is true for us as well. But note they were common, affordable, easy to be made and acquired.  They nourish and delight.  And their accessibility speaks to a unity and that is present when we gather and receive them.  The same bread is given to each person, and in my tradition, now after a blessing is Jesus himself.  Coming to everyone no matter their race gender, age, wealth, culture, or orientation. They speak to the universality of Christ a message we often do not see in our culture these days.  While some these days want to deny rights to individuals like transgender folks or limit the voting rights of others, this food, this Communion, is shared openly and generously.

Jesus in his “I am” statements and especially the one today reflects a universality, an adaptability, and inclusion often lacking in our world.  The nourishment Jesus offers is the grace, the power, and the availability of his presence as well as an awareness of his closeness.  He states in the Gospel that this Communion, this Eucharist, is true food and true drink. 

This sacrament’s power has the capacity to be seen in our lives.  By that I mean, since Jesus is so gracious in giving himself to us, it invites us to do the same with all those who enter our lives and with whom we live and work.  During the week when we are having a hard time with someone, it might help if we remember that perhaps they too received Jesus that weekend and they too carry God’s grace and nourishment. 

Our Sequence’s longer version today says, “What he did at supper seated, Christ ordained to be repeated, His memorial ne’re to cease.”  “Do this in memory of me.”  A gentle request and an invitation from one who loves us and welcomes us with all our limits and gifts.

[urbanchristiannews]

DANIEL WHYTE III, PRESIDENT OF GOSPEL LIGHT SOCIETY INTERNATIONAL, SAYS, FOR SOME STRANGE REASON, THIS NEW CROP OF PASTORS HAS A PROBLEM SAYING HOMOSEXUALITY, HOMOSEXUAL MARRIAGE, AND ALL SODOMITE ACTIVITIES, which includes all LGBTQQIPF2SAA+ (LESBIAN-GAY-BI-SEXUAL-TRANSGENDER-QUEER-QUESTIONING-INTERSEX-PANSEXUAL-FURRIES-TWO-SPIRIT-ASEXUAL-ALLY + PLUS OTHER LEGIONS OF DEMONS) ARE SINS AND ABOMINATIONS IN GOD'S SIGHT. Pastor Mike Todd, the latest to stumble after the similitude of Joel Olsteen, Andy Wood, Carl Lentz, and Andy Stanley, gives a confused, convoluted, and cowardly answer in which he ends up saying, "I don't know!" which is the same thing Joel Olsteen said a few years ago when he was one of the first well-known pastors asked the question on national television 'WAS HOMOSEXUALITY A SIN?' He ended up shrugging his shoulders and said, "I don't know." Whyte said then that if Olsteen was not going to answer the question correctly and boldly based upon the truth of the Word of God for the glory of God, then he should not appear on national television where they will ask him that question. Thank God he has taken heed to that advice, and as far as Whyte knows, he has been on only one national news show since then. This was before the coronavirus plague sent by God to chastise disobedient pastors, pastors' wives, and churches where many thousands of pastors, pastors' wives, and Christians died because they were giving communion and taking communion unworthily and committing other sins and abominations in the Church. By the way, to Mike Todd's credit regarding homosexual marriage, which was not even thought of in Lot's day in Sodom and Gomorrah; Todd was clearer when he said he can’t marry gay folk because he needs to submit to the Kingdom, and he said, "I am not the King." Whyte said in his Thursday night service on March 16th that God has revealed to him that there is no such thing as a MEGA-CHURCH anymore. Most people in the so-called mega-churches of today are religious but lost, including the pastors and the pastors' wives. Most of today's mega-churches are Judas-Laodicean churches that are compromised, and their primary concern is to remain MEGA, not to remain FAITHFUL TO CHRIST AND HIS WORD. Whyte believes the reason these mega-church pastors have a hard time saying the abomination of homosexuality is a sin and wrong and will not be tolerated in the Church is that they are more concerned about being MEGA than they are about being the CHURCH. They are more concerned about NUMBERS, MONEY, and BEING ACCEPTED BY THE WORLD than about BEING ACCEPTED BY GOD.

 (Photo: Screenshot/YouTube.com) DANIEL WHYTE III, PRESIDENT OF GOSPEL LIGHT SOCIETY INTERNATIONAL, SAYS, FOR SOME STRANGE REASON, THIS NEW CROP OF PASTORS HAS A PROBLEM SAYING HOMOSEXUALITY, HOMOSEXUAL MARRIAGE, AND ALL SODOMITE ACTIVITIES, which includes all LGBTQQIPF2SAA+ (LESBIAN-GAY-BI-SEXUAL-TRANSGENDER-QUEER-QUESTIONING-INTERSEX-PANSEXUAL-FURRIES-TWO-SPIRIT-ASEXUAL-ALLY + PLUS OTHER…

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[mamunj27]

Valentine's Day History

Valentine's Day, also called Saint Valentine's Day or the Feast of Saint Valentine, is celebrated annually on February 14. It originated as a Christian feast day honoring a martyr named Valentine. Through later folk traditions, it has become a significant cultural and commercial celebration of romance and love in many regions of the world.

There are a number of martyrdom stories associated with various Saint Valentines connected to February 14, including an account of the imprisonment of Saint Valentine of Rome for ministering to Christians persecuted under the Roman Empire in the third century. According to an early tradition, Saint Valentine restored sight to the blind daughter of his jailer. Numerous later additions to the legend have better related it to the theme of love: an 18th-century embellishment to the legend claims he wrote the jailer's daughter a letter signed "Your Valentine" as a farewell before his execution another tradition posits that Saint Valentine performed weddings for Christian soldiers who were forbidden to marry.

The 8th-century Gelasian Sacramentary recorded the celebration of the Feast of Saint Valentine on February 14.The day became associated with romantic love in the 14th and 15th centuries when notions of courtly love flourished, apparently by association with the "lovebirds" of early spring. In 18th-century England, it grew into an occasion for couples to express their love for each other by presenting flowers, offering confectionery, and sending greeting cards (known as "valentines"). Valentine's Day symbols that are used today include the heart-shaped outline, doves, and the figure of the winged Cupid. In the 19th century, handmade cards gave way to mass-produced greetings. In Italy, Saint Valentine's keys are given to lovers "as a romantic symbol and an invitation to unlock the giver's heart", as well as to children to ward off epilepsy (called Saint Valentine's Malady).

Saint Valentine's Day is not a public holiday in any country, although it is an official feast day in the Anglican Communion[13] and the Lutheran Church. Many parts of the Eastern Orthodox Church also celebrate Saint Valentine's Day on July 6 in honor of Roman presbyter Saint Valentine, and on July 30 in honor of Hieromartyr Valentine, the Bishop of Interamna (modern Terni).

Numerous early Christian martyrs were named Valentine.[16] The Valentines honored on February 14 are Valentine of Rome (Valentinus presb. m. Romae) and Valentine of Terni (Valentinus ep. Interamnensis m. Romae). Valentine of Rome was a priest in Rome who was martyred in 269 and was added to the calendar of saints by Pope Gelasius I in 496 and was buried on the Via Flaminia. The relics of St. Valentine were kept in the Church and Catacombs of San Valentino in Rome, which "remained an important pilgrim site throughout the Middle Ages until the relics of St. Valentine were transferred to the church of Santa Prassede during the pontificate of Nicholas IV [1288 - 1292]".[18][19] The flower-crowned skull of Saint Valentine is exhibited in the Basilica of Santa Maria in Cosmedin, Rome. Other relics are found at Whitefriar Street Carmelite Church in Dublin, Ireland.[20]

Valentine of Terni became bishop of Interamna (now Terni, in central Italy) and is said to have been martyred during the persecution under Emperor Aurelian in 273. He is buried on the Via Flaminia, but in a different location from Valentine of Rome. His relics are at the Basilica of Saint Valentine in Terni (Basilica di San Valentino). Professor Jack B. Oruch of the University of Kansas notes that "abstracts of the acts of the two saints were in nearly every church and monastery of Europe." A relic claimed to be Saint Valentine of Terni's head was preserved in the abbey of New Minster, Winchester, and venerated.

The Catholic Encyclopedia speaks of a third saint named Valentine who was mentioned in early martyrologies under date of February 14. He was martyred in Africa with a number of companions, but nothing more is known about him.

February 14 is celebrated as St. Valentine's Day in various Christian denominations; it has, for example, the rank of 'commemoration' in the calendar of saints in the Anglican Communion. The feast day of Saint Valentine is given in the calendar of saints of the Lutheran Church. In the 1969 revision of the Roman Catholic Calendar of Saints, the feast day of Saint Valentine on February 14 was relegated from the General Roman Calendar to particular (local or even national) calendars for the following reason: "Though the memorial of Saint Valentine is ancient, it is left to particular calendars, since, apart from his name, nothing is known of Saint Valentine except that he was buried on the Via Flaminia on February 14. Therefore, as he remains within the Roman Martyrology, he may recognised optionally during mass outside of Christmastide and Eastertide.

The feast day is still celebrated in Balzan (Malta) where relics of the saint are claimed to be found, and also throughout the world by Traditionalist Catholics who follow the older, pre-Second Vatican Council calendar (see General Roman Calendar of 1960).

In the Eastern Orthodox Church, St. Valentine is recognized on July 6, in which Saint Valentine, the Roman presbyter, is honoured; in addition, the Eastern Orthodox Church observes the feast of Hieromartyr Valentine, Bishop of Interamna, on July 30.[26][27][28]

#valentine #galentinesday

[howdytherepardner]

It would be hard to imagine, even at this precise moment of typing when I have not searched to ask, that no one has written about “Nights.” Checking that claim, not a single line goes without annotation on Genius, and a simple search warrants countless folks ruminating on its literary functions, representative implications, musical production, and personal significance. The writing that follows seems to land mostly in the latter, functioning more as a means for me to capture my own reminiscence and recollection. A bit of guilt there that I’m not doing more research and consideration of the song on its own accomplishments - but it would likely be more than redundant, and it feels more honest to operate only on what I know without trying to supplement the gaps with rudimentary google searches.

~

I was on Twitter when it was a meme of sorts to ask when Frank Ocean was going to release new music. Similar to the rumbling that I’ve noticed now, with his upcoming headlining at Coachella and other performances, that leads people to believe he’ll be dropping something new again.

But back then, Channel Orange was all it took to create a sense of grandeur and a near need for more from Ocean expressed by many in communion. It was almost like a shattering of worlds when Blonde dropped, the fulfilling of a prophecy that made jokes before feel like the worship of acolytes or spite of non-believers. It was an impossibly perfect follow-up, and evolution on the innovation of his first - even if people had preferences one way or another, it was simply impossible to say anything against how good it was.

At least, that’s the sentiment I picked up. I hadn’t listened to any of Ocean’s work, and was bystanding to what seemed to bring together so many in the peculiar public forum that was pre-November 2016 Twitter. People in my generational cohort (which I leave undefined and intentionally ambiguous to not speak for/exclude others) used to commonly, if not frequently, express how the summer of 2016 was a Moment, a peak of moments, that had not (and probably still has not) been been bested in their lifetimes.

Blonde released on August 20, 2016. It’s hard to pick a day of the year that’s more distinctly “summer is ending“ than that. Sure, August rolls around and folks might start getting ready to wrap things up, feel the passing of the season as the thought of school or work in a certain form returns to mind. But August 20 is when the teens of that month die - September is not just visible but clear on the horizon, and though summer heat in day still lingers, it’s the time: you might have been procrastinating, not thinking about it too much, but Oh, shit. Summer is ending.

~

I’ve been trying to remember which older, legendary folk artists described how music is consumed today like opiates, or something adjacent, and in what interview. Headlines circulated sometime late last year, tell me if you know what my brain doesn’t fully.

But my thoughts are burgeoning around that notion, largely with respect to continued questions on not only the ethics of Spotify (the place/app/service/corporation/social platform/series of servers from which I primarily get my music) but also its lack of guaranteed continuity. And certainly, some virtue of existence is impermanence such that someday one might return to where medium of song outside the human body and memory might remain, even before humans themselves go. I do want to start buying more directly from artists, particularly smaller ones and whose music I would call especially significant, but what a harsh judgement to impose non-significance on everyone else whose art I consume as unworthy of support.

But here, the opiate comparison feels most closely linked to ease of access and the sheer unending access one has. The highs one gets are simply highs; they are things to chase and to feel, but things largely empty of significance. One puts on music to tune out, to cope with the world as it is, rather than using music as a motivating source of change. Put simply, that anyone can “feel” as a result of music drenched in politics and social relations without any intention to alter their lives to understand or align with the theories expressed, to me, speaks to the power of either society writ large or unintentionally of the music itself. The guilt with which I identify is that I enjoy listening to music mostly passively, or to meet particular moods.

The exceptions have usually been coming to albums. Not exclusively, as often I’m just curious about finding “new music,” if I uphold that framework of guilt. But this past November, it felt right to not save my first occasion Blonde for a walk or a grind at work, but an evening in bed, not going to sleep, but after the time for which I needed to be awake. And it was everything that I would have expected to move me deeply back in 2016 - it moved me still in 2022, but I am different and older now.

~

The last time I recall taking a night drive with no purpose other than to drive was in the summer of 2020. I went south, ended up somewhere on the other side of Knoxville before making it to Abingdon on an extended highway that I’d never driven. I had my Discover Weekly playlist downloaded, and I remember hearing The Greeting Committee’s “Is This It?” before the first village and Anderson .Paak’s “Parking Lot” on the way out of the second.

I have driven at night since then - when I had a car at college for the pandemic-but-on-campus semester, I brought friends places, sometimes in the evening. Those memories I hold fondly in my mind, but those feel absent a certain introspective quality that drives for the sake of driving seem to steer towards. I really haven’t driven much since those times in early 2021, and now that I’m a resident in a city with robust public transport and many walkable areas, the desire to be back behind the wheel hasn’t really flared up. I’m sure there’s some climate guilt loaded up into that, but really, the only thought that comes to mind is the notion of the night drive.

It is a wonder that, for a certain period of our lives, the older we get the more responsibilities we are allowed, then expected to uphold. The high school experience I think can be considered a particular crux between those two points - a driver’s license at 16 a particular example of new autonomy without, say, the burden for the regular commute of a 9-5. So those of teen ages might enjoy that ability to a particular extent without the negative associations that it might invoke for a high school, and indeed they might indulge in those night drives.

I don’t make this claim to be universal. I grew up in a rural area where driving was often the only thing to do as a teen night activity was drive around, between small cities and large villages, traversing fields of wheat, corn, or soy; illuminated by streetlamps, then the moon. But I know that many grew up in city environments where driving was not such a cultural staple, nor a part of life at all. I also know that driving is a part of many’s post-high school experience in such a way that the “night drive” is still a component of that life on the young side of adult.

But I think it’s interesting, reflecting on my college experience, the end of an evening hangout with friends in college was a walk home, maybe solo, maybe with a few others. But in high school, it was a return to residences that were hardly close together - the night drive, the moment of silence between friends and family, was necessarily a part of concluding that experience. Refreshing, before starting the next day.

~

“Nights” made its way to my January playlist pretty early in the month. There’s a particular association I have with it when getting onto the CTA, usually homeward bound on the Red Line. To imagine myself as I must appear to other people, bundled in a slim black winter coat and a maroon beanie: like any and many other a damned individual, not unique or perceived at all. Instead, blending in somewhere between the back and foregrounds.

But I’d also like to imagine a look comes over my face the second that it hits. A guitar strum pulled truly from nothing - a brief line that catches you off guard and informs you of the tone - before resolving into the next logical step. Ocean’s voice carrying that same immediacy that makes every word seem like it simply was meant to be. What is that feeling that comes over me, does it show on my face? And where do I find myself once the beat shifts?

~

Again I apologize, for here I’m not trying to read the text of the song at all. With the journey of a tin of chai rooibos from [part of unexpected credit at the gift store of the hotel outside of which Ronald Reagan was shot] to the home of a good friend as another example, it’s an attempt to name one of the invisible threads that isn’t made to be noticed. And yet, I am inspired to encase it, though I’m not sure why.

What happens in the night? Why do we do things when we should be asleep instead? How has it enchanted our minds, and how does our relationship with it change? How does Ocean, like many countless others, know how to present it in art? I ask these things because I am not sure how they are to be answered. But I have another proposal offer:

For a time, I had thought of 2020′s summer as the longest period of time that I’d ever endured. Recently I’d been thinking of it as longer than the past 8 months of my life, or even the 4 years of my time in high school; by most scholarly metrics, this is strictly wrong. I’m not going to say I won’t feel the impossibility is true again later, but I do think my sentiment is better explained by thinking of it less in length. A year is a year even if I’m not perceiving it, and so similarly is the temporal distance between one equinox and the next.

But I do perceive these things. The mind selects with what to fill each moment, and the memory thereafter. In that way, it is not the length of time that we recognize, but how all of it is filled. Through this calculus, it is the AREA across a time that we know. Plateaus and bumpy hills and caverns, these stores and deserts of significance come from our own bodies and choices. Not just to forget and to remember, mind you, but to feel and breathe and experience, or to numb and shut out and survive. Things within our control that have obviously never been in our control.

~

Summer 2020 was not longer than itself, but large. Much larger than the average summer, and rivaling many single years. Some rides on the Red line are bigger than others.

And it’s a long life, if every night fucks every day up. Thinking about the power of “Nights,” any second within could span the cosmos, if you let it. And even as one might be able to shrink the space a place takes up, it is a scary power that people have: making moments too vast to ever escape.

[jdgo51]

In the Presence of My Enemies

Today's inspiration comes from:

The Lord is My Courage

by K.J. Ramsey

Editor’s note: Psalm 23, the beloved song written by King David, is the foundation for K.J. Ramsey’s new book The Lord Is My Courage. Enjoy this exclusive excerpt.

*

“Part of what keeps us from sitting at the table of courage and communion is a refusal to identify the reality of enmity. I love that David uses the word enemies in his prayers. I love that he does not pretend away the pain of being condemned and chased. Instead, he dares to name something our contemporary Christian niceness generally leaves vague or even venerated. The experience of enmity is embedded in our bodies, wringing our hands into fists and hearts into hiding when others threaten our safety.

When David delights in the table God has prepared for him in the presence of his enemies, David is affirming that Love is so completely on his side that God is willing to absorb the hostility being hurled at him.1

I love that David does not hide his pain behind platitudes, because platitudes can never penetrate our pain. Only God can take the weight of enmity.

In a world full of harm and hatred, only God’s presence can give us peace that reaches every part of our souls.

The symbol in which we most witness where God positions our enemies is the Eucharist, the ultimate place where enemies are made friends. But far too often, Christians prefer to dilute the wine of Christ’s sacrifice into the grape juice of niceness. Wherever wrong has been done or experienced, someone is following close behind with the paintbrush of platitudes. “There are two sides to every story,” they say. “There are no perfect churches,” they chide. “All things work together for good,” they paint and paint and paint. Sometimes it seems that Christians like to put lipstick on lies instead of fighting to remove their stain from our souls and communities. It is easier to dismiss pain than deal with changing the circumstances that produce it.2 We forget that noticing and naming enmity is a prerequisite to knowing whom and what to love and protect.

Neutrality is the nicest kind of evil. Not taking a side is taking a side. Neutrality shows victims that their health is worth less to you than avoiding awkwardness or not having to make relational changes. Neutrality tears open the wound of trust over and over again.

If we cannot name our pain, it just remains a chain. If we will not name the reality of evil, we will remain defenseless to defeat it. David’s prayers are like dialysis for Christians who have been drinking the sugary-sweet preaching of platitudes for so long that we’ve become diabetic to the dissonance at the heart of the cross.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies,” David prays.3

“Because of all my enemies, I am the utter contempt of my neighbors,” he laments. “I am forgotten as though I were dead... For I hear many whispering... They conspire against me and plot

to take my life.”4

Alexander Schmemann writes that “evil is not to be ‘explained’ but faced and fought. This is the way God dealt with evil. He did not explain it. He sent his Only-Begotten Son to be crucified by all the powers of evil so as to destroy them by His love, faith and obedience. This then is the way we must also follow.”5

***

When Jesus reveals Himself as the realization of David’s Psalm 23 story, He does not just flaunt His love in the presence of enemies; He invites them to the table too. In Luke 15, when Jesus tells the story of the good shepherd and the good woman who, upon finding what was lost, prepare a table with a feast and invite their friends, the Pharisees present would have heard their names called. The “friends” or haberim were an elite group of Pharisees who were even more intense in their separation from common folks — not visiting them, not traveling with them, not studying the law with them, and definitely never eating with them.7 Jesus calls His friends and neighbors to come celebrate with Him, to move toward the lost ones they have spent their whole lives judging.

Cognitive neuroscientist Thomas Fuchs writes that as we reenact the Lord’s Supper together, the church’s collective body memory of receiving Christ’s presence renews our participation in Christ’s life.8 When we suffer or are abused, evil scrawls forsaken, forgotten, and unloved all over our neural pathways, coiling our bodies with contempt and contention.

The sound of Christ’s words in our ears, the texture of the bread in our hands, the taste of red wine on our lips, the scent of candles, and the sight of kind eyes meeting ours can bring our whole bodies and minds back into a story where we are beloved.

The communal practice of communion gathers our grief with grace at the foot of the cross, enfolding us together into the life of the world to come.

The table of communion is the place where curse meets blessing. As we long for and seek the justice and reconciliation of the world to come, we can take our place at the table, even in the literal or figurative presence of our enemies, daring to believe that in Christ all that has been cursed can come back to life.”

Kenneth E. Bailey, The Good Shepherd: A Thousand-Year Journey from Psalm 23 to the New Testament (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2014), 57.

And, yes, I am talking about systemic racism and poverty in addition to abuse.

Ps. 23:5a, emphasis added.

Ps. 31:11–13.

Alexander Schmemann, Of Water and the Spirit: A Liturgical Study of Baptism (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1974), 23.

Bailey, Good Shepherd, 111. 204

Thomas Fuchs, “Collective Body Memories,” in Embodiment, Enaction, and Culture: Investigating the Constitution of the Shared World, ed. Christoph Durt, Thomas Fuchs, and Christian Tewes (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2017), 333–49.

Excerpted with permission from The Lord Is My Courage by K. J. Ramsey, copyright Katie Jo Ramsey.

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

i haven't been to mass in years lol

#today i have a communion folks #it's funny cause i ain't even baptized lol #anyways i'm wearing the suit of my graduation 5 years ago and it shows lol #also fun fact it's the first time in the year i've worn another shoes besides sneakers and slippers ✌️

[bacchicly]

"I Have you." A Happy Musical Oneshot

This a happy version of Chapter 9 of Deep and Crisp and Even for those who are not keen on the lovers to friends trope I'm exploring over there. For those who are reading the "happy version of DCE" (soon to be re-titled) I don't think this chapter is going to be worked in - so probably best to read here 🥰

Paring: Penelope Garcia x Luke Alvez

Summary: Penelope and Luke have been dating and today is a day when Penelope is going to shower Luke in TLC - the result is a sexy heartful interlude where Penelope and Luke listen / dance / love to one of my favourite albums on the planet - it's Canadian Folk/Spoken world: In Streetlight Communion by The Fugitives

Words: 6283 (but you can skim a bunch of them towards the end - although the end is written with the intention of you reading with rhythm and verve and filling in your own blanks with your imagination)

Content: Brief mention of death of parents, loving sex, a bit of profanity, fluff, craft beer, poetry/lyrics, a brief Roxy cameo

The chapter also includes an origin story for this little pic:

GIF sent to me by the oh so brilliant and knowledgable @okimargarvez - BIG THANKS for providing me confirmation that there is no official canon origin story for the photo that Penelope looks at when going to confront the man who killed her parents.

Also, I need to send GIANT HEARTFELT THANKS to lovely smart and caring @vangsn for being a sounding board for this chapter when I was unsure of flow. 🥰

All mistakes as always are mine.

"Alrighty Mr Alvez - today is your day to be pampered - any requests?"

"The movie thing sounded good as a start…Ms Garcia Then see how we feel afterwards?"

Luke waggles his eyebrows at her - super happy to be spending the day with Penelope.

"Sounds good. Hie thee to my DVD collection and if you don't see something you fancy … we can go rent something or watch cable. Capiche?"

"Sounds good. Can you make popcorn while I choose, if I bat my eyes at you and say pretty please?"

"Nope."

"No?"

"The price of popcorn is a kiss - eye batting only gets you jelly beans."

"My mistake… so what would I owe you if I want pizza, beer, licorish, and chocolate cake?"

Then he leans in and kisses her.

Luke falls into the kiss even though it is chaste and brief.

When he tastes her lips it hits him like he hasn't kissed her in a decade… even though in reality it's been less than a few minutes.

Luke shifts back and away - gently breaking their touch - Penelope's eyes have drifted closed - and as he separates them, he feels how her body unconsciously sways forward so that their contact is maintained for as long as possible.

He gathers the beatific smile which stains her lips and lines the edges of her eyes into himself - torn almost to pieces as he realizes it is strained almost microscopically by melancholy born of their job and other tiny stresses he wishes he could erase. He brushes a stray curl off her cheek - and like lightning it is not popcorn and pop-culture he wants to share with her today.

It is music.

He stands abruptly.

Her eyes shoot open and she topples slightly.

Luke grins madly - re-energized by his impulse - and offers Penelope his hand…he's posed like he's asking her to join him for a dance...she blinks up at him then tentatively places his hand in his.

Luke yanks her up - pulling her body flush and hard against his - ravishing her mouth - growling deep and posessively in the back of his throat - and then ripping himself away - his hands burning from the warmth of her - his eyes filled with determined fire.

"Pen? Let's forget about the movie and popcorn for now. Come - I want to show you something back at my place."

...........................

Roxy is gambolling in the snowy backyard - the weather is perfect - just a little below freezing - and since Miss Penny insisted she wear her coat - she'll be comfy out here for ages.

She's also super happy to have some human-free outside time to do her dog stuff. She likes spending so much time with Sergio and Penny - but their apartment really lacks in the outdoor space department. Sometimes a dog just needs some unsupervised digging and squirrel chasing time, y'know? Maybe they could all move here? Hmm she'll have to talk it over with Sergio and see what he thinks…

..........................

Inside, Luke carefully pours the craft beer - craft beer he insisted on picking up on the way over - down the inside of one of the Game of Thrones pint glasses that a friend got him for Christmas last year. The pour is perfect - the beer a deep brown - the foam just right. He does a little internal fist pump and moves to pour the second.

His Penelope may usually be a margarita girl - but Luke is sure she'll appreciate this dunkelweizen - it's one of his absolute favourites and a totally perfect pair for the album he's thinking of.

Another perfect pour - another internal fist pump. He is on fire!

...which is a good thing because jokes about there being no such thing as getting too much head would be beneath him…

Grinning and dance-stepping his way out of the kitchen, Luke carries the two alcoholic offerings into the living room where the fabulous Penelope is waiting - her socks and footless leggings shucked off almost the second they arrived to be comfy - her bare legs and feet tucked up under her - her head bowed over her phone - hair swung down around her face hiding her expression.

Luke can't help but pause and stare. Even though he's been practically living with her since they got back from the case he rarely gets the chance to watch her just be. There is a rightness about her being in his apartment that he is not going to examine too closely… but he knows he wants it to be a very permanent part of his lifr. So instead, he concentrates on the pure pleasure of looking at her.

She must feel his eyes on her because just then she looks up - meeting his smile - her serious perfectly made up face bursts into an expression as joyous as a sunrise.

"Penelope Garcia. Have I told you today how gorgeous you are?"

She frowns in mock thought.

"Not that I recall...and I can usually be trusted to remember a compliment. How gorgeous am I?"

"Hmmm. I think I will let the surprise speak to that. Let me just put these down. Now come over here, Chica."

Luke offers his hand again and she again - trustingly puts hers in his. He helps her up and draws her over to a tall narrow two-doored taupe cabinet in the corner of the room that Penelope has never paid much attention to.

As she frowns slightly at the bare top - Why doesn't he have any photos or nicknacks anywhere? - Luke opens the two solid doors.

Penelope gasps - the cabinet that is as tall as her holds shelf after shelf of cd cases.

Slowly she traces a finger along the spines of the cases - realizing very quickly that she recognizes almost none of the musicians or album names.

"There's more in the guest bedroom. It's the only thing I collect. There is probably every genre of music on the planet in this apartment - famous musicians - obscure - brilliant and really really awful."

"How did I not know this about you?"

Luke shrugs.

"I don't talk about it with anyone really. I like listening to an album all the way through - without doing anything else except snuggle with Roxy - maybe read a novel if the music is purely instrumental. It's sort of a private thing, I guess? Some friends and my mom who stored them all for me for years. When I was in the army I'd have new albums delivered to her place when I was deployed. I had so much to listen to when I got out. It was kind of part of my recovery."

"That's really...it's…"

Penelope has no words - instead she just grabs his hand and squeezes - then turns back to the siren song of scanning the titles of the collection.

"My grandmother, if you'll believe it, keeps trying to convince me to switch to a streaming service instead. But I like CDs - or vinyl - I've got maybe 60 or 70 records - they are in the back bedroom too. It's the whole package, you know? I want the art and the liner notes and the printed lyrics. I have never gotten rid of a single album and I've been collecting since I was in high school - I ah dated a drummer who dragged me to every Indie music venue we could get into. Pretty soon I was the one dragging her. And when we broke up - I never stopped."

"True love."

"I guess so. That sounds better than obsession or dork… I mean it's not just shows… I have an album for every town we've caught an unsub - I mean I often have to research and order them once I'm home - but it's just something I've always done - there's ah also one for anywhere I apprehended a fugitive, every place I ever trained or deployed, everywhere I've ever lived, every live music act I've been in the same bar as...every…"

The timber of Luke's voice deepens. He's looking at her face, not his collection now.

"..every vacation."

Penelope's head whips around. Her eyes are round like an owl's.

Her lips have shaped a soft "oh!"

"There's...there's.. one for when we got together? Where? What is it?"

"Over here, Chica. I bought it when we went to the show - you had gone off to get us drinks or something - and I saw it at the gift table that was set up...the band had apparently toured the Fringe circuit with the guy in the show - so I bought their first album…Plus well the band is called The Fugitives...and that's kinda my thing right?"

He has handed her a case...The Fugitives is definitely the band's name...So "In Streetlight Communion" must be the album title… she opens the case and finds it empty.

"It's in the player. It's practically the only thing I have listened to since we got back. Will you listen to it with me? I think...you're going to love it."

Penelope's eyes are shining. The corners of her perfectly made up cherry red lips tug into a smile.

She had insisted on looking presentable if they were leaving her apartment.

"Yes please."

Luke lets go of a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"To the couch?"

"To the couch! Wait! Can we um take a selfie together first? I was just thinking I wanted a work appropriate picture...of us...together. Nothing fancy...just side by side smiling? I...just...don't always have pristine make-up around you - seriously you need to work on that, Mister."

He chuckles. It's true - he does have a habit of kissing off her lipstick and smudging the rest of it. It's why he had grumbled a bit when she decided that if they were going out she was "doing her face" - he'd just be kissing it off, so why bother?

"'course, Chica."

But then, when she pouted and faux-growled, he had made a big show of having a change of heart and had declared it would be good if she did as she wanted since it would serve as an anti-ravishing device - increasing the odds that they would make it to his surprise...

Hence, why Penelope figures now is the best time for this mini idea - her lips and red tortoiseshell glasses may become askew later… especially if the music is going to make her feel...well anything really….so it makes sense that they take a moment to stand in front of a stretch of eggshell wall and capture today in her camera.

FLASH!

Good. They look a little bug eyed. He looks happy and she looks put together. Not too couple-y so it would be a safe thing to include in her cheer-up camera roll… perfect for hard days...

Once Penelope has texted a copy to Luke - they head to the couch holding hands - Luke with the cd player remote and the case - Penelope filled to the brim with anticipation.

"Ok - now I know you aren't usually a beer person...but I have hopes you'll like this one. Honestly it's the best match I've found for this album. It's fruity but also round and toasty because it's a dunkleweissen - a dark wheat beer. And since you are an eco warrior - you'll be happy to know it's made in town by a husband-wife team who founded the brewery a couple years ago."

"Stop making me like you, Luke Alvez!"

"Never!"

They kiss.

"But seriously - I'm nervous about whether you'll like it or not. Ok try a sip. What do you think?"

Penelope takes a sip not worried - she can drink beer. But when she takes a sip - she realizes there is beer and then there is beer. This is caramel and leather - a mouthful of sex and copper - rich and warming - unlike a whiskey or scotch there is something heavier more nourishing about the liquid - it doesn't burn on the way down or make her sinuses open with the heat - it's more like a sinful mouthful of fruity chocolate or dark comforting sourdough bread.

"So?"

Penelope takes a second sip - holding the gorgeous drink in her mouth as she deliberately places the pint glass on the coffee table.

Demurely lowering her gaze, she turns to him - shooting him a sultry look under her lashes - thankful he has not yet picked up his glass - because she needs to…

Penelope kisses him. Keeping her lips sealed until they meet his - pushing her tongue through the tightness - wet with beer - licking along the seam of his mouth so that he opens - his tongue coming out to play...tasting...oh my fuck...tasting…

Her tongue invites itself into his mouth...she lifts herself up...so that her ass is no longer flush with the couch cushion...so that he must tilt his head back to keep the kiss...so that the spicy beer trickles along with the kisses - kisses that always seem to be gathering in her mouth for him these days - into his.

Luke's hands come up to cup her face as he claims the kiss more deeply - thumbs caressing cheeks - fingers sliding over her ears to tangle in her hair - mindful of the straight dangly silver earrings - bumping up against the undersides of the arms of her glasses…

She thinks:

See? They will be askew. I knew it.

And:

This kiss...is...actually making my face...my breasts...my...my… eveything… tingle ache..toward him….how? So fast...

And:

Oh! My! Oh! My! oh. oh. oh...

He thinks:

The music can wait…

And:

So fucking uhhhhhhh.

And:

More. More. More. Please.

...

Penelope breaks the kiss.

Luke blinks at her…

Trying to figure out what just happened...

One second he was…

Now he is not…

Penelope laughs quietly.

"You really are adorable when befuddled, Newbie. We should listen to the album. If that beer is the best pairing to the music - I think ah waiting might make the ah experience even ah better?"

Luke's befuddlement drains away at her words and is replaced by a cheeky gleam in his eyes. His trademark crooked cocky grin tweaks at his lips. He leans in towards her - breathing in her perfume - and raises his eyebrows in a playful quirk.

"Which experience would that be, Sweetheart?"

Penelope turns pink all over - only the foundation and powder hides the flood of her tip to tail blush that came out of nowhere.

She turns abruptly away - rubbing her hands settlingly over her thighs.

"Shut-up-shut-up-shut-up! Just because you..."

Penelope cuts herself off and takes a steadying breath.

"I just want to listen to the album, ok?"

Luke strokes a flat firm hand up her spine - up the back of her cabernet dress and slipping up under her black cardigan - rubbing across her shoulder blades in a comforting motion.

Penelope flexes into his touch like a cat being stroked. Stretching her neck from side to side….

Luke closes his eyes almost in pain....

She is so close and so kissable...but she is also right… he knows this album and how many times has he listened to it in the last month wishing he could share it or one of his many other favourites with her?

They may be able listen to music together later when they are just friends - but not this album - never this album.

He wouldn't be able to bear it.

So it's almost now or never.

"Ok. Here, you sit at that end and put your pretty feet in my lap. There. Now here's your beer. Comfy? Ok. I'll see you on the other side ok - it's about a forty minute album? Tell me if you need anything. Geez...I hope you enjoy this."

"I know I will."

Her eyes are filled with liquid love.

He wants to...needs to...no.

He sits back - beer in the hand furthest away from her - uses remote in the other to start the album - then sets it down in easy reach and rests his now empty hand on her ankle - taking a deep pull of hid beer then leaning his head back, closing his eyes, and letting the music wash over him.

Penelope says nothing but raises her eyebrows when the first few notes are clearly being made by a banjo.

A banjo?

She doesn't really think of Luke as a banjo person...let alone..a banjo which is quickly joined by an accordion person…

...but then when the drums..and maybe guitar...piano? It makes sense.

Oh...and then voices.

Oh gosh. The voices.

The song pulls her along into a world of a traveling band…

Then this woman starts doing spoken word over the pulsing pushing crashing of the melody and Penelope is truly ensnared.

**Maybe the road has made me a different kind of woman...gone more wolf cheeked...from watching the dark...raise the sheets to peak...carnival tents in one night stands...**

Penelope holds her breath.

Then, when the woman stops her bit, she takes first a deep gulp of air and then a gulp of her drink.

Falling back into the music...the layering...biting her lip at the next round of spoken word - this time the voice of the woman is joined by a man - clacking through the poetry like trains on a track - another man wailing his heart empty in the background.

The song ends abruptly.

Penelope looks over at Luke - but his eyes are still closed - his features holding an almost unearthly intensity…

...and then the next song starts…

...a new world opens up as her ears strain for the sounds of whispered beatboxing and then the insouciant broken gruff tones of the male poet laying down words about democracy and hard news and celebrity gossip...piano chords deliberately punctuating...promising that a song will resolve itself out of the mist of this introduction…

...then almost silence until the guitar picks up the melody…

...and the woman...her voice a bit like Emily's deep and expressive and a little husky...enters with another part of the poem…

**A journalist is simply someone who has a good memory - hoping that everyone else does not - I've heard the same thing said of storytellers. CSN? I can't remember**

...and then the music and the singers crash in…

...the voice of the man who sounds like an angel yearning to return to heaven sings over everything - calling...calling for redemption...

The wall of sound and ideas envelopes Penelope.

She takes another sip of her drink - holding the liquid again in her mouth to savour - and then leans back and lets the music wash over her as all it builds and builds…

...unbeknownst to her…

...her foot on Luke's lap starts to tap to the rhythm…

...also unbeknownst to her…

… Luke relaxes and washes down a growing smile with another long swallow of beer...his Adam's apple bobbing...his soul flying with the singers….

When the next song starts - this one opens like a much more conventional folk song - he opens his eyes and watches Penelope intently...the lyrics opening this track are sung...barely...but definitely sung not spoken.

There is something particular that has always moved him in this next song but he can't quite put his finger on it.

**Tonight we take the Highway Three - where the deer duck headlights - through the trees - under Crow's Nest Pass - under the town of Frank - where the landslide came and the city sank**

It is about travelling again - two lovers in the front seat - and the brother of the driver - feet resting on top of his guitar - asleep in the back.

Luke was compelled to look up the 1903 Frank Slide after the first time he heard this song - and it is now one more item on the list of things that haunts him.

The lyrics offer the unexpected tragedy as proof to seize the day - seize love when it is available - the urgency is heightened further with descriptions of crosses - left at the roadside to remember those who have been loves but died in cars on the highway - like Penelope's parents... he remembers too late…

Luke watches as Penelope's face tenses and a single tear forces its way from under the corner of one eyelid...rolling agonizingly slowly down her cheek...her jaw set...he reaches out and takes her hand...she does not open her eyes but clings to him.

She is not angry or hurt that she has been taken here - to her mind, the reminder of past pain and sorrow is perhaps not a light price for all that this song is but worth it - it builds deliciously - the sacred attraction between the lovers - intense - baudy - required - until the lovers, with savage defiance of the tragedy that haunts all of us, join their bodies in the darkness of a mountain motel.

Penelope tries to communicate all this through their clasped hands.

The next song is another shift - a heavy drum beat inspired by indigenous rhythms the vocals are the wail of the blues - covered by rapid fire desperate pleading rebellious spoken word.

A new type of sacred.

A crashing prayer.

Almost too much.

Like the begging before someone hits their climax…

...begging...beseeching...until finally the song hits it.

Hits it.

Hits it.

Hits it.

Luke closes his eyes again after another long swallow of beer - he's gritting his teeth.

He's heard this album so many times but it's like it's the first again - he is with Penelope not knowing what is next.

Not knowing how much more he can take...

That is when the tuning dissonance of the next song starts it is a single bright sharp tripwire of sound - but then, almost as one, Luke and Penelope's faces go slack with a shared smile when they are caught by the relief of melody.

The male poet is soft and serious...but safe.

There is melancholy in this song...but also resistance, bravery, beauty, and hope...

It is a bit like the story of the BAU - of their own lives…of warriors for justice and truth and safety….

**We are looking for the dreamers who can sing this fucking loud!**

It is a call to action. To bravery. To humanity.

By the end...both Luke and Penelope are sitting a little taller...feeling a little prouder...they...they are the dreamers who can sing that fucking loud.

And fucking proud of it….

Penelope is now ready to move her head sensually to the next song when it demands it of her- a secret curves her lips as the musicians unfurl into a lazy love song.

As Luke realizes what track they've found themselves on - he sets his pint glass silently on the table - shifting her feet off his lap - so he can slip to kneel on the floor beside Penelope - silently taking her beer and putting the sweating glass on the table beside his - he rests his cheek on her belly - looking up over her breasts into her face which she has tilted to see him better - one hand slips to his bicep - the other tangles in his hair.

Luke can't help but sing-speak along with the first verse of this song he has learned by heart...his eyes all smiles...

**Wake up slow and turn on my side run my finger down your freckled spine - stand there yelling the night went slow - the cat is scratching at the bedroom door - your roommate's gone and I've lost my clothes - I hitchhike to your mouth from your elbow - a French Tattoo in the mind of an English Boy.**

Penelope joins in with him for the chorus once she picks it up...

**...and you call and you stay and you fill me up and you blow me away…**

But then when the song shifts again and like an oath Luke speaks the poem he has learned by heart:

**I grew up amid stained glass - I gave grace for my daily bread - so I'm a man who is accustomed to worship - and I want to worship you now - to kneel before your body and rave into your flesh the repentant oaths of wicked men who aspire to rapture - I shed tears that would make garlands against your skin - I would grant you a kiss fit for a king's ring - so I move into your house - and I eat out of your pantry and every night I smell your hair and I listen to the street.**

He kisses the tips of her fingers - the inside of her wrist - Penelope can't see it or feel it but Luke is hard...he always gets hard to this part of the CD...thinking of her...

Penelope pulls him to kneel taller and they kiss.

It is like the one last night and the one this morning - they keep it a light promise - a thank you...there is music yet and neither wants to miss a note or a lyric…

...so Luke slips back to his spot...handing Penelope her beer and taking his. Her feet swing back to rest in his lap… he spreads his legs and leans forward… letting her foot rest on his knee…

As the next piece opens they are transported again - this time into a smoky bar watching a lounge act seduce them from the stage.

The song is slinky and sexy…Penelope is cupping her glass in both hands - eyes drifted shut again - officially dancing in place - with deep shoulder action.

Luke usually just sits and listens to music.

Has a beer.

Sometimes works out.

Or reads.

Occasionally…

ok.. reasonably often…

ok… always to this album…

...he'll...jerk off…while listening...

He kinda didn't think about that before putting this plan together...maybe he should have.

He shifts hoping that it's not too obvious that he's hard.

He doesn't want to interrupt things...

But he never dances.

As the song progresses he gets the feeling that might be about to change.

Penelope finally officially feels too restricted by sitting and stands - dancing by herself - eyes half closed - spinning - stretching - flicking her wrists - all sass and sinew - it's totally her own style - a mix of what feels good and modern and ballet inspired moves - sometimes riffing on the quick base rhythm that flows through the piece - sometimes floating on the long notes held by singers - sometimes losing her balance or step but rolling it into the next move - she holds poses when the music stretches to a point and then falls back into the swaying dance.

Luke can't look away. He's been with Penelope for a while now so he's seen a lot of sexy...but this…this… might top them all...

Penelope dances completely without artifice or self-consciousness. She is dancing for herself not for him.

But that changes when the end of the song culminates into the company chanting over and over that:

**....of the desert and the …. of the sea then she shoots down all the satellites and strips just for me**

Penelope playfully looks at him and joyfully teasingly slowly takes off her cardigan for him - offering her hand for a courtier kiss - but Luke flips her hand over and presses a kiss to her palm instead of the back - then nuzzles his cheek against her lifeline until she pulls away to continue her show - smirking delightedly - enjoying his overt admiration.

The next song slams into being. The band shouting defiance as they proclaim their wants. Proposing cheekily that The Police live in their basement to "save on gasoline".

Penelope cackles.

Luke is no longer permitted to sit and observe.

He is pulled onto the "dance floor" and they mosh and bounce to the fast parts - laughing - then they seperate and do interpretive dance to the slower bits - not ever getting super close - at the end they shout the demands at each other as loud as they can - their hands in fists - then high-fiving and shaking it out at the break.

For the next though - all is dreamy and poetic - so Luke pulls Penelope in for what his folks would have called a "proper dance" leading her around the room in a slow improvised latin inspired step that works perfectly with the sultry spicy baseline of the song.

Penelope can't seem to look at his face - so she fixes her gaze over his shoulder - smiling into the distance as the woman poet spins her web of words and the dancing weaves a different type of net.

Luke can't seem to not look at her face - the curve of her cheek - her eyelashes hidden behind the frames of her glasses - the adorable tip of her nose - her now slightly kissed off red lips - her blond bangs and long soft curls framing her face.

They dance like that for the whole two minute song - Luke leading his woman around the living room - she feels safe and cared for - they collide with nothing - not a foot stepped on or a shin barked - not a spin toppled or out of control.

At the end - Luke captures the hand that has been on his leading shoulder and keeps hold of the other - bringing both together between them - raising first one - then the other to his lips - this time properly kissing the backs.

Penelope has made eye contact now - and he never breaks it - just looks up at her over the backs of his hands - one of his favourites is coming next - it's the second to last song - a show piece and he is so excited to show it off to her - this round she's the one in for the show…

As the music starts up again - an insistent intense rhythm laced with the tension of a thunderstorm rolling in - he straightens - not letting go of her hands - holding her planted in place - big dreamboat eyes looking up trustingly into his - he settles his expression into a darkly serious face.

Theatrically - loosened up by the beer and the dancing and her - Luke slips into full scale lipsyncing mode - still serious but emoting to the max - making Penelope's face break into pure shock then wonder then delight:

**Noooow I pull out five dollars and I put it on the counter and ask "Has the band started yet?"**

**She smiles and says "Yes they haaaave but there is no need to worry because they've been waiting for youuuu"**

**And nooooow I am standing at the barrrr - fixing myself a drink - as Brother Jason makes love to a microphone.**

**The Eastside Army's standing on the stage now - killing silence and teaching all the kids how to footstomp - bootshake - love what you do now - building castles with a microphone!**

For the instrumental break - Luke pushes Pen back onto the couch and then dances for her - his best impression country step dancing mixed with clowning. Anything he can think of to make Penelope laugh - he does - and laugh she does..

As the voices come back - Luke takes up the character of a grand showman - a magician -picking up his lip syncing act with a flourish of hand gestures!

**Dance hall - beer brawl - cabaret - communion.**

**We're an army of magicians!**

**Do you see these hands?**

**Average everyday ordinary haannnnds?**

The song is fast and showy - a modern tongue twister - and Luke is on top of every word - every image.

And Penelope is eating it up…

She leaps into a standing ovation when he bows with the last crescendo doffing his imaginary top hat.

He pulls her in for a real thorough kiss….until...

The last song is slower - so when the kiss ends they settle into a highschool-esque slow dance - circling - swaying - his hands at her waist - Penelope's wrists loosely resting on his shoulders - her glasses off - held loosely in one hand - neither is really worrying about being in time.

As the song - and album - draws to a close - Luke pulls Penelope closer - breaths in against her neck.

**I have you**

Luke kisses the skin at the edge of her collar.

**I have you**

Luke kisses her neck - lingering.

**I have you**

He kisses from just by her ear - across her cheek - down to her lips - oh curses - her lips - her lips...

He kisses and whispers "I have you. I have you."

He kisses and finds the zipper of her dress - slowly running it down her back - the fingers of the other hand slipping in and under the fabric of the open dress...

"I have you."

Now, Penelope takes her turn. She lets the eyeglasses she's holding slip from her fingers - not caring what happens as they hit the carpet.

"I have you."

She runs her hands down his chest - over his black long sleeved shirt.

"I have you."

She tilts up nibbling kisses from the corner of his mouth - across his beard - then trailing back down - pressing a kiss to the skin just above edge of his round ribbed collar - whispering against the heat of his skin:

"I have you."

The music is done all is silence except their words - their breath - the echoes of the music in their brain.

"I have you. I have you."

Luke slides off the quarter-length sleeves of her dress - kissing the skin he reveals - one arm - then the next - her bodice pooling around her waist.

"I have you. I have you."

Penelope has reached the hem of his shirt and starts pulling it off. He steps back - and tugs the shirt over his head - tossing it to the side.

"I have you. I have you."

Penelope steps forward and lets her palms retrace their earlier journey - sliding up over his belly - over his chest - to the crest of his shoulders. Yes, he is gorgeous by most standards - but other beautifully sculpted bodies have left her cold or unaffected or worse - afraid. But he is beautiful because he is Luke.

"I have you. I have you."

She knows that touching him would always be this special - whether he was hurt, or grew fat, or old and wrinkly and saggy and gray. She presses a kiss over his heart.

"I have you. I have you."

Penelope reaches for the fastenings of his pants - undoing them and pushing them and his underwear carefully down until Luke steps free. She presses a kiss high on his hip.

"I have you. I have you."

Luke pulls her up into a hug - swaying with her - loving her hands roaming across his back - burying his face in the sweet spot of her neck.

"I have you. I have you."

Luke's clever fingers slide around to the front and with silent thanks to whoever invented bras that clasp in the front - he undoes the magic fastener - letting her breasts hang free and heavy - pushing the straps down her arms - tossing the fabric construction on top of his shirt - sliding to his to his knees - pressing kisses to her breasts - her belly - looking up at her as he pushes the dress over her hips so that it pools on the floor around her feet - her hands resting on his shoulders.

"I have you. I have you."

He slides her panties down down down her legs until they have joined the dress.

"As a man who is accustomed to worship…"

But she does not want to be worshiped.

Nor does she want to worship him.

She wants to worship with him.

So Penelope lowers herself to her knees to face him.

She takes his face in her hands.

He mirrors her.

They come together and kiss.

And kiss.

And kiss.

And kiss.

Each kiss is a prayer. A revelation.

They kiss.

And kiss.

And kiss.

And kiss.

Both a question and an answer.

And yet they kiss…

And kiss.

And kiss.

And kiss.

The kisses that have been gathering - pooling - like sacred offerings in their mouths - flow from one to the other - tumbling into the depths of their bellies - gathering into pools of ache and want and connection.

And still they kiss…

And kiss.

And kiss.

And kiss.

The tension is buzzing now along the edges of their jaws and into their scalps...the ache in her quim feels like the yearning voice of the man who fell from heaven sounded...his cock is as rough and desperate as the poet…

Everything inside of them is swelling and building and being and….

So they kiss…

They kiss.

They kiss and kiss.

They kiss and kiss and kiss.

They kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss.

They kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss.

The music was and is their words. Their hands. Their stories. Their wishes. Their hearts.

So they kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss.

Their cheeks suffuse with heat. Their knees hurt from kneeling. Their breaths are short pulls through their noses….

But they kiss.

And they kiss.

They kiss.

They kiss.

They kiss.

One kiss ends midway into the next. The next kiss started two kisses ago. They layer kisses. They are kisses.

They kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss

They kiss and kiss and kiss

They kiss and kiss

They kiss

Kiss

Kiss

Kiss

Kiss

She lies on her back on the rough beige carpet.

Kiss

Kiss

Kiss

He lies flush on top of her

They kiss

They kiss

He is inside her.

They kiss

They kiss

They kiss

Every inch of them quivers.

They kiss

They kiss

They kiss

Kiss

Kiss

Ah

Kiss

Kiss

Ah

Ah

Kiss

Ah

Kiss

Ah

Kiss

Ah-Ah-Ah-Ahhhh

He thrusts and kisses and she meets him and kisses.

They need more.

The kisses become more.

Thrust

Fuck

Kiss

Ah!

Thrust

Fuck

Kiss

Kiss

Kiss

Ah - Ah - Ahhhh

But the kiss! The kiss! The kiss! The kiss!

And he cums and she cums and still...still...still…

They kiss.

They kiss.

They kiss.

"I have you."

"I have you."

They kiss.

#criminal minds #garvez #luke alvez #penelope garcia #The Fugitives #In Streetlight Communion #Happy Version

[cardest]

Russia playlist

Gorbachov! Tear down that wall.......and turn up this Russia playlist! The Cossacks are dancing to this one and the yaks are singing. Russia, Siberia, Moscow, St Petersburg and a cold war. It’s all here in this Russia playlist. Hit play: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC18F7oDKY8zH1IOplzHM05MY

We begin the journey in Siberia and make our way across Genghis Khan territory towards Omsk and beyond. We have a look at Chernobyl, Ukraine for a look around and make our way up to Moscow, We finish up this playlist in St Petersburg. Hope you enjoy it.

RUSSIA

001 FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE 007 OST - Main theme 002 Ozzy Osbourne - Crazy Train 003 The Beatles - Back in The USSR 004 Iron Maiden - Mother Russia 005 Sisters of Mercy  - Dominion / Mother Russia 006 Ramones - Cretin Hop 007 Sting - Russians 008 Russkaja - Peace, Love & Russian Roll 009 Robert Simon Thomas - Troika  (balalaika) 010 Jello Biafra, The Guantanamo School Of Medicine - We Created Putin 011 The Cult -  Siberia 012 Mastodon -  Siberian Divide 013 Yes - Siberian Khatru 014 Pesnokhorki Barnaul - Cossacks songs of Siberia 015 Diablo Swing Orchestra - Siberian Love Affairs 016 The Kills - Siberian Nights 017 The Night Flight Orchestra - Siberian Queen 018 Altai Kai - Traditional Siberian music 019 Vallenfyre -  My Black Siberia 020 Skyhooks - Jukebox In Siberia 021 MISERY INDEX - Siberian March 022 Wooly Mammoth - Mammoth Bones 023 Grumbling Fur -  Siberian Priest 024 Iron Maiden - Genghis Khan 025 Trans-Siberian Orchestra - Night enchanted 026 The Locust -  Live From The Russian Compound 027 ACCEPT - Russian Roulette 028 Cavalera Conspiracy - Genghis Khan 029 Diaframma - Siberia 030 Renaissance - Mother Russia 031 Echo & The Bunnymen - Siberia 032 Dschinghis Khan - Genghis Khan 033 Bad News -  Warriors Of Ghengis Khan 034 The Hu - The great Chinggis Khan 035 Shah - Escape 036 Ray Stevens - Surfin USSR 037 Ramones - Locket Love 038 Heirs -  Russia 039 The Dillinger Escape Plan - Hero of the Soviet Union 040 Natalia Albychakova - Takhpakh 041 Svetlanas - Go Fck You Self 042 Maloletka - Irkutsk Path 043  Kuban Cossack Choir - The hat all around 044 The Lords of the New Church - Russian Roulette 045 Paul Lay Trio - Irkutsk 046 Elvis Hitler - Rocking Over Russia 047 Russian Circles - 309 048 Thylacine - Irkutsk 049 Valeriy Voloshin and gruppa Pyatiletka - Irkutsk 050 DEVO -  Cold War 051 Güiro Meets Russia - It's Not The World, It's You 052 Powerwolf - Nightside of Siberia 053 Altai Kai - Oilo oilo altai 054 Arkona - Yarilo 055 Depeche Mode - People Are People 056 Gorky Park - Bang 057 Igor Stravinsky -  The Rite of Spring, Part 1- 3 Game of Abduction 058 Martika - Toy Soldiers 059 Transvision vamp    - revolution baby 060 The Stranglers -  No More Heroes 061 Gari Gari - Russian gypsy  music 062 Russian Sailors - Dance Yablochka 063 Manic Street Preachers - Revolt 064 Elton John - Nikita 065 Krokus - Russian winter 066 Prince - Ronnie Talk to Russia 067 Soviet SOunds - Baikal-Amur Railroad 068 Genesis - Land of Confusion 069 Duran Duran - Planet Earth 070 Today Is The Day -  The Russian Porn Ballet 071 Nytt Land - Ballad of Gjallarhorn 072 Rotting Christ - Ветры злые - (featuring Irina Zybina) 073 Metallica - Blackened 074 Anneke van Giersbergen, Árstíðir -  Russian Lullaby 075 Der Kommissar - After the Fire 076 Czas relaksu - Andrzej i Eliza 077 korobushka - Folk Russian 078 Peter Gabriel - Red Rain 079 FEAR - Bomb the Russians 080 Rush - Heresy 081 RUSSKAJA - Energia 082 Megadeth -  Peace Sells 083 King Crimson - One More Red Nightmare 084 Sodom - Nuclear Winter 085 Bruce Cockburn - If I Had A Rocket Launcher 086 Talisman - Hey you Horses! 087 Styx - Cold War 088 Grateful Dead - Throwing Stones 089 Gimines - Kai armonika tyliai užgros 090 EXHUMED - Coins Upon the Eyes 091 Mastodon -  The Czar 092 CCCP - American Soviets 093 Sapce Rockit - Supersonik Elektronik 094 Septic Flesh - The Eldest Cosmonaut 095 Quicksand -  Cosmonauts 096 Arkona - Zimushka 097 Abracadabra - Damned Dances 098 Pink Floyd - Two Suns In The Sunset 099 Prince - 1999 100 Trololo Guy - Sean Sell Duck with Fake Subtitles ( Buffalax Style ) 101 Armonika - Gromatele Parašiau 102 Diablo Swing Orchestra - Vodka Inferno 103 Accept -  Balls to the wall 104 Killing Joke - New Cold War 105 UB40 - The Earth Dies Screaming 106 RAMONES - Bonzo Goes To Bitburg (My Brain Is Hanging Upside) 107 TCHAYOK - Zavarka - Mi-minable 108 COH - Soii Noir 109 Vircator - Tunguska 110 Scorpions -  China White 111 Tears For Fears  - Everybody Wants To Rule The World 112 The Stalin - 解剖室 113 KAIRA - OХ РA 114 Alexander Robotnick - Ce n'est q'un début 115 Tunguska Electronic Music Society - Alpha Kawu 116 Arkona - Odna 117  Cist - Antisceptic 118 Sabaton -  Nuclear Attack 119 Leningrad Cowboys - Katjusha 120 PRONG - Rude Awakening 121 Imperial Age - And I Shall Find My Home 122 Так - пела метель 123 Fear Konstruktor - Nonexistence 124 Oneohtrix - Russian Mind 125 Police - Every Breath You Take 126 dEpEchE modE - Two Minute Warning 127 Ultravox - Dancing With Tears In My Eyes 128 Sigue Sigue Sputnik - Love Missile F1-11 129 Metallica - Fight Fire With Fire 130 David Bowie - Heroes 131 woven hand - my Russia 132 Survivor - Burning Heart (Rocky IV OST) 133 Forest - As a Shade Above This Land 134 Tesla - Modern Day Cowboy 135 Colossus Form - Son Of Nature 136 The Flying Lizards - Russia 137 Djivan Gasparyan - A Cool Wind Is Blowing 138 Iron Driver (feat. Pasha Mrachek) - Prisoner of time 139 Pussy Riot - CHAIKA 140 Boris Alexandrov - Катюша (Katyusha) 141 DEVO - Going Under 142 Motor - Yak 143 Nuclear Assault - Nuclear War 144 Edward Artemiev - Station (Solaris OST) 145 Soviet Valves - Puritan Blues 146 Verasy - Polet 147 FAVALLI - Yuri Gagarin 148 Wolfmother - Cosmonaut 149 Yuri Gagarin  - Psychological Discontinuity 150 Witchfinder General - Soviet Invasion 151 Korrozia Metallah - Russian Vodka 152 Russkaja - Kosmopolit 153 Dio -  Gypsy 154 The The - slow train to dawn 155  Blues Pills -  Gypsy 156 Rush - Red Lenses 157 Corey Hart - Komrade Kiev 158 Master - Metal Doctor 159 Howlin Rain - Phantom In The Valley 160 ARKONA - Liki Bessmertnykh Bogov 161 Pitchblack - IHATEU 162 Ozzy Osbourne - Killer of Giants 163 Scorpions - Wind of Change 164 Yat kha - Chorumal Bodum 165 Nadezhda Babkina, Russkaja Pesnja 166 Ramones - Here Today, Gone Tomorrow 167 Russian radio - red flag 168 Manicure - Atomic Summer 169 The Dillinger Escape Plan -  The Threat Posed By Nuclear Weapons 170 Love Among Freaks - Berserker 171 ARIA - HERO OF ASPHALT 172 Temnozor - Fatherland 173 Walknut - Motherland Ostenvegr 174 Weird Al Yankovic - Now That's What I Call Polka! 175 Underworld - Underneath the Radar 176 Skyclad - Polkageist 177 Helloween - Russian Roulé 178 John Coltrane - Russian Lullaby 179 Julian Cope - russian revolution blues 180 Rodrigo y Gabriela - The Russian Messenger 181 Kate Bush - Babooshka 182 ВИА - Чаривни гитары 183 Mastodon - The Last Baron 184 Hovert – Omyt 185 Minsk -  Consumed by Horizons 186 Kypck - Stalingrad 187 Def Leppard -  Gods of war 188 Black Country Communion  - Big Train 189 Sabaton -  Stalingrad 190  Doomsquad - Russian Gaze 191 Soviet Soviet - Human Nature 192 Murray head    - one night in bangkok 193 The Korgis - Young n Russian 194 Chelsea Light Moving - Communist Eyes 195 Helix - Champagne Communist 196 UDO - Train Ride In Russia 197 Mr Weebl - Russian Dancing Men 198 Jamie Jones   - Siberian Express 199 They Might Be Giants - Sold My Mind to the Kremlin 200 Ed Khuild - lolololololololol 201 Sepultura - Itsari 202 Vy Pole - Enormous 203 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Fifteen Feet Of Pure White Snow 204 Gogol Bordello -  Gypsy Auto Pilot 205 Buffalex - Horse Eat My Nipple 206 Municipal Waste - Wolves of Chernobyl 207 Drudkh -  Cursed Sons II 208 Chernobyl - A song for the fallen 209 Russkaja - Hometown Polka 210 Toxic Holocaust -  Out of the Fire 211  Hail Caesar! Soundtrack - 19 Soviet Man 212 The Blow Monkeys  - The Man From Russia 213 The Devil's Blood - The Anti-Kosmik Magick 214 Orchid - Cosmonaut of Three 215 Vergeltung - Cold War 216 KYPCK - Alleya Stalina 217 Cabaret Voltaire -  Calling Moscow 218 Red Army Choir - Polyushka Polye 219 Iron Curtain - Ready To Strike 220 Porcupine Tree - Russia on Ice 221 Sigue Sigue Sputnik - 21st Century Boy 222 Al Stewart - Roads to Moscow 223 The Rolling Stones - Sympathy For The Devil 224 Soviet Soviet - ecastacy 225 KREMLIN - Will You Feed Me 226 AC/DC - Heatseeker 227 ANJ - Gorbachev 228 Katyusha (Катюша) - Aleksandr Marshal & Valeria Kurnushkina 229 ARKONA - Stenka Na Stenku 230 Black Obelisk -  The wall 231 Skyclad - Catherine at the Wheel 232 Pussy Riot - Kropotkin-vodka (Kill the sexist!) 233 Brian Eno -- Stedelijk 234 Zola Jesus - Siphon 235 Insect Inside - The First Shining of New Genus 236 MR. ZIVAGO - Little Russian 237 The Real McKenzies - Midnight Train to Moscow 238 Red Army OST - KGB 239 The Toasters - Night Train to Moscow 240 Thy Catafalque - Urania 241 The Apogee - Hieronymus Bosch 242 Sabaton - Panzerkampf 244 RUSSKAJA - Barada   245 Oneohtrix Point Never - KGB Nights 246 Faith No More -  A Small Victory 247 Mike and the mechanics - A Call To Arms 248 Michael Jackson - Stranger In Moscow 249 Blondie - Contact In Red Square 250 Rammstein - Moskau 251 Pseudogod - deathwomb 252 KGB - Subway Sleepwalker 253 Igor Butman Big Band - Moscow at 3am 254 Genghis Khan - Moscow 255 Demon - Blue Skies In Red Square 256 Type O Negative - The Profit of Doom 257 COH - Red Square 258 Cougars - Red Square 259 Ray Conniff - Moscow Nights 260 INDIANS IN MOSCOW - Indians in Moscow 261 Radio Moscow - 250 Miles 262 Kingdom Come - Crown of Moscow 263 Powerwolf - Moscow after dark 264 U.D.O. - Decadent 265 System Of A Down - Störagéd 266 Closure In Moscow - Pink Lemonade 267 VIBRATORS - DISCO IN MOSCO 268 IRA PETROWA - MOSKAUER NÄCHTE 269 Visage - Moon Over Moscow 270 Farmers Market - Red Square Dance 271 Wonderland -  Moscow 272 Courtney Pine - Red Square Gagarinesk 273 Stray Cats - Storm The Embassy 274 German Shepherds - Communist Control 275 Moloko - Radio Moscow 276 March of the defenders - Moscow 277 Takako Nishizaki - Podmoskovnye vechera( Moscow Nights) 278 Simple Minds - Moscow Underground 279 The Spotnicks - Moscow 280 The Russian Jazz Quartet - Journey from Moscow 281 Bob Crewe Generation - Miniskirts In Moscow 282 MODERN TROUBLE - FLY TO MOSCOW 283 Gorky Park - Moscow Calling 284 BB Gabor - Moscow Drug Club 285 Doe Maar - De bom 286 Manicured noise - Moscow 287 Russkaja - Ras Dwa Tri 288 PLANET P PROJECT - Armageddon 289 Clan of Xymox - Muscoviet Musquito 290 Gogol Bordello -  60 REVOLUTIONS 291 Uriah Heep   - Gypsy 292 Living Colour - Cult Of Personality 293 The Hollies - Russian Roulette 294 Kenny Ball and His Jazzmen - Red Square 295 Frank Chacksfield - Under Moscow Skies 296 Thomas Dolby - Eastern Bloc 297 The Redskins - Kick Over The Statues 298 The Alchemist - Moscow Mornings - Sunrise 299 N.O.T.A. - Moscow 300 Svetlanas - Where Is My Borscht? 301 Against Me! - Russian Spies 302 James Horner - Gorkij park (Gorky Park 1983) OST 303 Hetalia Russia - Moscú 304 Roberto Jacketti & The Scooters - Moscow Nights 305 Ram J Holder - The Blues in Moscow 306 Ivan Rebroff sings Russian folk songs - Moscow nights 307 Jethro Tull - Crest Of A Knave Said She Was a Dancer 308 Men At Work - Its a Mistake 309 Skeewiff - Moscow Mule 310 The Clash - Ivan Meets G.I. Joe 311 Captain Sensible - Glad its all over 312 Ulfdallir - Steel Armor 313 Arkona - Oi Ti ne Vecher (Oh Not That Evening) 314 Lena Katina - No Voy A Olvidarte 315 JOHNNY M5 - Moscow Nights 316   Eddy Huntington - U.S.S.R. 317 Selsius - Moscow 318 WINTERUS - MOSCOW 319 Mr. Zivago - Love in Moscow 320 Brutto - Moscow Calling 321 Udo Lindenberg - Moskau 322 Aliza Kashi - Moscow Nights 323 Angelic Upstarts - Last Tango In Moscow 324 ASIA - Russian Dolls 325 Blaze Bayley & Thomas Zwijsen - Russian Holiday 326 Kate Bush - Breathing 327 Roger Waters and David Bowie - When the wind blows 328 Roky Erickson & The Aliens - Sputnik 329 Moscow - Orange Juice 330 Ivan Rebroff - Cossack Patrol 331 Alexandr Gradsky - Как молоды мы были 332 James Horner - Gorky Park - Following KGB 333 B.T.R - Moscow City 334 Gogol Bordello -  Hats Off To Kolpakoff 335 CCCP - Sputnik [Cosmos] 336 Russkaja - Go Sputnik 337 Red Spektor - Cosmonaut 338 Bald Red Lady - Cosmonaut 339 Ulver - Russian Doll 340 Hawkwind - Sputnik Stan 341 Bad Acid Trip - Putin Fears Pussy 342 Queensryche - Operation Mindcrime 343 Dark Tranquillity -  Arkhangelsk 344 TOTAL REJECTS (This Night) I'm Going To Be Destroyed 345 Manic Street Preachers - The Next Jet to Leave Moscow 346 Billy Joel - Leningrad 347 Victor Smolski    - The Heretic 348 Boney M - Rasputin 349 Type O Negative - Tripping A Blind Man 350 Leningrad Cowboys - Leningrad 351 Accept - Stalingrad 352 Russian Folk Music - Russian Winter 353 Cavalera Conspiracy -  Rasputin 354 Kontrust - Rasputin 355 Bersarin Quartett - St. Petersburg 356 Folkearth - From Volga to Bosphorus 357 Anastasia - Rumor in St. Petersburg 358 Retox - Soviet Reunion 359 Fireside - Let Rasputin Do It 360 Mastodon - Oblivion 361 St.Petersburg Ska Jazz Review - Volga River Boat Man 362 THERION - The Khlysti Evangelist 363 The Mountain Goats - Evening in Stalingrad 364 Rage - Soul Survivor 365 Indigo Girls - Closer to Fine 366 ARKONA - Slavsia Rus 367 Russian Folk Music - Kalinka (balalaika) 368 Catch 22 - The Decembrists Song 369 Joanna Stingray - City of Lenin 370 Aria - Attila 371 KAUAN  - Khurum 372 Balalaika Ensemble Wolga - Cossacks Dance 373 The Liminanas - Russian Roulette 374 Vasiliy Shumov - Porridge 375 U.D.O. - I GIVE AS GOOD AS I GET 666 Russkaja - Change

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC18F7oDKY8zH1IOplzHM05MY

#russia #moscow #russian playlist #russian songs #siberia #russkaja #arkona #rasputin #leningrad cowboys #cavalera conspiracy #cossack #type o negative #svetlanas #pussy riot #cold war music