#& to me it demonstrates just how hungry he is prove himself to be above everyone else

[aimcs]

        -- HC. a soul becomes a hollow when they lose their heart & allow a hole to open up on their soul. & yet instead of his hole being in atop his heart, or his chest like most hollows & a couple arrancars--- grimmjow’s is on his stomach. & this is despite the act of devouring being shown to be a big part of his character-- since as an adjucas, he’s done nothing but hunger for others, preying on the weak & even going as far as to eat his most loyal followers ( rarely are other arrancars / espadas / adjucas shown eating others as much as grimmjow has ).

        -- THIS is, quite frankly, because the position of his hole-- the absolute removal of his stomach-- represents his lack of interest in physical food. oh no, he’s still hungry for more, that much is for sure. but more than anything he could physically eat, he’s STARVING for emotional fodder. pride, power, strength, desire, lust-- he hungers to prove himself, to destroy, to be RECOGNISED as a king. 

[nodameshield]

how are we doing? have the tears dried yet? I know mine haven’t :: 

let’s start light : research fellows count ! (also, lady, only ten years old? - I resent that).

Goh understands this?? he’s got a silly proud smile and it’s following Ash’s butchered storytelling??? love 

research fellows count ! 

perfectly attainable dream 

sure, go for it.  (look at both of their supportive lil smiles, we love best friends) 

we all know the scene that’s coming ahead, but I thought this was a beautiful demonstration of growth already on Goh’s side.

Listen before the sad part begins let us appreciate for a moment how Ash and Goh were smiling at EACH OTHER after the interview was over. cuties. 

behold : the last frame we have of baby Sobble. I’m going to miss you, bean. thank you for everything<3 (he was so proud of his good deed as well!! my very heart) 

just how fast the night changes, indeed.

Drizzle went through shock and pain at record speed and swiftly landed on anger - only to fall into ✨depression✨ just as quickly.

and then we just stayed there.

someone 

is 

(oh hey Cinderace ! good to see ya)

having  

a rough morning

 (I’m sorry, this scene was just fucking funny - the drama)

Cinderace’s proud big bro moment was just too sweet to leave out - let us not forget, he’s been a big bro since he was Raboot (and even as a temperamental Raboot, he was always gentle to Sobble). And now his baby bro has evolved as well. precious ! 

Goh handled this situation very maturely from the beginning. And here’s when the build up starts. He’s saying ‘hey, let me help you how I think you need to be helped” and he genuinely doesn’t mean any harm! naturally, his reaction is to help his Pokémon, in the way that has worked in the past.

but then he starts to understand maybe that’s not the best approach this time around.

and he’s ready to respect those new boundaries (of course, there’s no blame on Cinderace, either. Much like Goh, he - and everyone, really - was just trying to help in the way he thought was the best).

shoutout to the animation on this bit because Pikachu’s ears darting down was a delightful detail. Chloe’s expression and Grookey’s simmering down drove the point home as well.

ah, you coy little thing. Did you forget how your trainer almost left you behind because of how rebellious you were??? Because you made him feel as though you’d be better off without him?? (Cinderace has selective memory, you can’t change my mind, don’t be miss-leaded by the cuteness)

this build up was wonderful - we begin to hear all these reasons why, yeah? maybe he just wants to be alone.

maybe he’s still very afraid and careful of his surroundings, and his evolution made it worse? (he’d been popping up in random places in previous episodes, hiding, which was also great foreshadowing for this episode !) 

maybe he’s cocooning himself until he’s ready to evolve again? (which, considering his disappointment and how badly he wanted to be Inteleon already, is a very plausible reason)

but Prof. Cerise gets it right when he says ‘we can’t really know for sure’ (which ties greatly with Goh’s upcoming scene) - is it your Drizzle’s quirk? are they all like this? who cares? Isn’t wonderful how he’s a living creature? how he’s got nuances and a personality? shouldn’t that be enough of a reason to look after him, and try to help him right now?

my child, still thinking he’s got to do everything on his own.

and these two are just like ????? Goh ??? watchu talking about ???

can you imagine how MUCH this moment means to him?? he was ready to keep going alone (it’s what he knows) and even when Ash and Chloe prove him, time and time again, that he’s not alone, there’s still something in Goh coded to believe others won’t care as much/won’t be there when he needs them. and that’s why he insists: I’ve got this. I can do it alone.

and, sure, but you don’t have to. that’s the beauty of friendship.

you tell him, Chloe. (actually, without Chloe calling him out, he might have taken longer to figure out where Drizzle was. so...) // but also, it gives us a glimpse into the fact that, while Goh might have felt very lonely, Chloe has been observing and caring for him - in her way - for a long minute as well.

my very point above. 

HEY, LISTEN: he doesn’t know, either. he’s a child, words are hard, and you rotate along the four moods of childhood (happy, upset, scared, hungry (?)) and don’t ponder much on anything else because you are a child, there’s no emotional intelligence to speak of, no need for it, you’re being shaped by your environment and all the stimuli of the world being a new place. things like loneliness, confusion, anxiety... we can’t put those into words - hell, they’re fucking abstract and confusing even when we are adults.

and Goh’s stimuli and environment was, given what we know of his family life, a rather lonely one. Did his parents have a lot of spare time to take him to the park? I don’t think so. Was he good at going out there and asking other kids to play? ... probably not. 

Chloe doesn’t strike me as an extrovert, either, so even if she wanted to get close to Goh or invite him to hang out, perhaps she was too shy as well. Heck, perhaps Goh’s reaction would’ve been like the one above, he simply didn’t know. Maybe he didn’t want to ! and that’s perfectly fine as well.

am I forgiving the anipoke team for making Goh cry? no, never. but this was beautifully executed so I can grow to live with it.

“why are you depressed?” “you have nothing to be sad about!” “look at all the wonderful things you have!” “just be happy again!” - sound familiar? yeah, this was incredibly well done.

as adults, perhaps we see this and think ‘shit, how cool that they’re prodding on these topics, it’s important’ and it is !!! so important !! but if it’s this impactful as young-adults/grown-ups, imagine how impactful it must be as a child to see this and feel perceived. I’m honestly so proud of this moment, this whole episode. I’m grateful they took the time to look into this maturely. and even if children don’t do a full-fledged analysis on it, if they relate (like I know so many of us did) they won’t forget it. and that’s beautiful.

darling I’m blanking on your TW handle I’m so sorry - but someone in a tweet SO RIGHTFULLY pointed out that these are the words Goh would have needed to hear when he was younger. saying them to Drizzle it’s a full circle moment for him, he’s hearing them as well, and it’s helping both of them grow.

He’s not forcing himself as Drizzle’s trainer. Goh bears no entitlement here. He’s saying ‘Hey, if you’re comfortable, if you want to share , I’ll be here’ / as a kid, people did care for him, they kept wanting to know what was going on, but Goh couldn’t put that in words and people pestering him only made it worse, but if someone had said ‘hey, when you’re ready...’ then,,,,yeah,,,,maybe it would’ve been different. 

he’s offering that safety now to his Pokémon, something he didn’t have, but he grew to understand is what he (and now Drizzle) needed. If that doesn’t have you breaking down in a teary mess then you are stronger than I’ll ever be, because my glasses were cloudy by this point.

why, why, why. because you needed to hear all that as well, baby! so did a number of us. thank you.

I’ll say that, however it was that you connected with this moment, that’s yours to cherish. 

Personally, I too had a lonely childhood marked by parents who overworked, and I too spent a lot of time alone in kindergarten and through elementary school because it was hard to make friends (turns out i’m an extrovert, ha, talk about breaking out of your shell...) so, obviously there were easy common grounds for me in this episode.

but I LOVED to read the reactions and realize so many people still connected with it, one way or the other. So many of us felt seen and understood and acknowledged in emotions that are so hard to put into words !! 

so, again, if you identified with Goh or Drizzle or any of the topics in this episode, that’s very beautiful, and I hope the underlying message that you’re not alone gets through.

With Sobble, and now with Drizzle as well, Goh is very adamant to remind us that, however we are, that’s fine. there’s something that makes us special, regardless of other people’s opinions, or their ideas of how we *should be* // that’s the message I’m taking with me, at least.

 and i can’t wait to see how this story line evolves !! I have no doubts that, when the moment comes, Inteleon will be a wonderful addition to the team, but Drizzle is here now, and he’s plenty wonderful already x

Bonus: 

ha ha, yes. I watched this episode three times. And all three times I was a mess.

side note but a very important one: the animation, the voice acting, the dialog, the scenery of the starry night - the entire scene was so beautifully executed. so  carefully crafted. ugh, amazing. just perfect. so happy.

[tanyawritesstories]

Must Be the Whiskey | Jack Daniels x Reader

I got inspiration to write this from listening to a song of the same name. Though the lyrics had nothing to do with the idea I came up with 😂 a thank you to @scribbledghost for letting me tag them. I hope y'all enjoy! 🤠

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: fluff, dramatics, insinuations of sex, domesticity, light chaos

•••

“I cannot believe you did that!”

Jack was angry again. You had been joking but apparently he had taken it seriously.

“Hun, it’s not that big of a deal,” you said, still finding it funny, “It was just a joke.”

Jack took off his hat and tossed it on the nightstand next to your shared bed. “Well it wasn’t funny to me,” he argued. You made your way into the bathroom and began taking your makeup off. “You don’t flirt with another man while I’m sitting right next to you!”

You laughed, “Babe, I was not flirting you know that. I just wanted to try it.” You knew he wasn’t really mad, just annoyed and most likely he just wanted to fight with you.

“Well ya shouldn’t ‘ave, sugar. Now you got your old man riled up,” he replied. Jack ditched his jacket and his shoes, running his hands through his hair.

You giggled and stepped out of the bathroom, finding your fiance sitting on the end of the bed. “I can think of something to do with all that energy,” you hinted suggestively.

He pouted and looked at his lap. “I ain't in the mood.” You had to resist laughing at this grown man acting like a child over something so simple and innocent.

You kneeled in front of him and tilted his head up so his eyes met yours. "Jack, baby, it was only a drink."

"Yeah but it was the wrong drink, you should've gotten your usual, and you know it," he continued to pout. You smiled sympathetically, "I will from now on, I promise. Jim has got nothin' on you, cowboy."

Yes, Jack was angry because you had decided to get a Jim Beam instead of your usual Jack Daniels whiskey, at the bar. Ever since you met him three years ago, you hadn't drank any other whiskey except his namesake. You didn't know he would promptly flip his lid when you decided to try a different kind tonight. You were sure he was acting or playing up his anger for show. He was a very dramatic man. You realized just how much when he accused your liquid betrayal of being akin to unfaithfulness.

He sighed. "I just want you to know you hurt me, darlin'. Don't break a man's ego like that again, ya hear?" He smiled and booped your nose.

"Yes, sir," you winked. "Now, do I have to satisfy myself or do you still have all that energy?"

A devilish smirk came to his face and he hoisted you up to straddle his lap before falling backwards so you landed on his chest.

"Oof, yep, you still got the energy," you concluded. Jack kissed you like it was the last time he ever would, full of heat and passion. A kiss that was so very Jack.

"I love you, sweet pea. And I plan on showin' you just how much," he drawled. You giggled. It was going to be a long and delightfully tiring night.

~~~~

Jack woke up still feeling worn out. That's the price he paid for a good time with his lady. But it was worth it every time.

He begrudgingly lifted himself out of the comfy bed, sliding some sweatpants onto his bare body. He could hear you humming from the kitchen. Your mumbled melodies accompanied the smell of bacon and coffee, his favorites. He made his way into the kitchen, forgoing a shirt.

He found you exactly how he expected. You were standing at the stove stirring eggs in a pan, bacon was sizzling away on a different burner, and coffee was brewing on the other end of the counter. He watched you for a while, his eyes wandering up and down your body. You were wearing shorts and one of his shirts that was much too big on you. He approached quietly, wrapping his arms around your middle and resting his forehead on your shoulder.

“Morning, dear,” you greeted. You could barely hear his mumbled reply into your skin. “You hungry?” Jack nuzzled into your neck. “I don’t know, I had quite the feast last night, but I wouldn’t be opposed to a second helping,” he teased, nipping your neck and giving your ass a light squeeze. You giggled and tried to push his hands away from tickling you.

Jack loved hearing you laugh, it was one of his favorite sounds. He loved waking up to find you making him breakfast. There was something so domestic and peaceful about it. Sometimes he would sit and watch you, he found it fascinating how you could throw a few ingredients together and mold it into something completely different and delicious. He never got tired of watching you cook and bake. The only times he missed it was when you were called into work early or he left before you woke up. He smiled fondly at the memory of buying you an apron that said ‘kitchen wizard’ on it in big red letters, you always wore it when baking. Jack compared your baking to a form of art as complex and stunning as the canvas paintings you had strewn around the house.

You both worked at a reasonable time and were able to have breakfast together, chatting about the day's events and generally anything that came to mind. You and Jack parted ways with a kiss, Jack heading off to Statesman and you heading off to your day job.

~~~~

Jack got home before you and had been relaxing when he received a text from you asking him to come out into the driveway. He was confused but complied. He found you getting the groceries out of the trunk of your car.

“You need help there, sugar?” He asked.

“No. But I must prove something to you, Jack,” you said dramatically. Oh no. Jack knew that tone of voice, it was usually used to either tease him or make yourself sound like a dramatic theatre actor. In conclusion, it was never good, but always humorous, when you used that voice. “I have purchased something to prove to you how much I love you in a broad demonstration of questionable intellect,” you preached. Jack smiled and laughed. “What did you get, sweet pea. More lingerie? Because I haven’t gotten tired of the last set, ya know.”

“It’s worse,” you said. You reached into one of the bags and pulled out a bottle of Jim Beam whiskey. Holding it above your head, you took a few steps away from your car, standing not far away from Jack. “What are you doing with that?” He asked, only a little bit irked. “Allow me to demonstrate my love for you,” you announced, putting your other hand over your heart. At that, you released your grip on the bottle, sending it into the concrete with a loud smash, glass and liquor going everywhere.

Jack’s mouth dropped open. He wasn’t expecting you to do that. “Honey, what-”

“My love for you is no joke, Jack Daniels. I will love you till my dying day and will smash as many more bottles of that fowl name as I need to, should you ever doubt me.” You stood watching him, his reaction was funnier than you thought it would be, it had taken every ounce of self control in you to keep a straight face. You could feel your jeans were wet with alcohol and some bits of glass had caught in the bottom.

Jack sauntered over to you. “Darlin’, honey, sweet pea, love of my life,” he cupped your face in his hands, “Do you realize you just smashed a thirty dollar bottle of whiskey in our driveway?” You nodded, sincerity in your eyes. “Yes, I do realize. I wanted to prove to you that you are superior to anyone and everyone else, and I love you,” you beamed up at him. “You are truly somethin’ else,” he said, his smile warm and loving as he kissed your forehead. “Let’s clean this up and then have dinner.”

You helped Jack clean up the mess, sweeping the glass shards into a dustpan and washing away the liquid with a bucket of water. You made sure there was no more glass as you didn’t want any of it to get caught in the car tires. He helped you carry the groceries into the house and unpack them.

“I also got us actual drinks,” you said. Jack turned to see you holding a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand and a bottle of Statesman in the other. “How much did you spend on whiskey tonight, angel?” He asked, amused. “Only about eighty bucks,” you answered. Jack once again took his time walking over to you, “Sometimes I think you’re worse than me.” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. “You have to think about that? I thought it was obvious,” you sassed. “Well alright, little missy, do I have to teach you not to speak out of turn again tonight or are we going to have dinner,” Jack sassed right back. “As tempting as that sounds, I’m quite hungry,” you giggled. “No time to lose then, sunshine. Let’s get cookin’.”

[owlways-and-forever]

Summary: The Marauders are getting older, and that means so many things. Mischief, heartbreak, and trying to figure out who they really are. They'll face problems within their group, prove their loyalty to each other, and discover the ugliness that is brewing in the wizarding world at large. Welcome to Years 2-4 of the Marauders time at Hogwarts. **This piece is a sequel to Behind the Mango Tree, however, you do not have to have read the first installment to pick this up. It does stand alone, but there is some carry over from the last book, especially with inter-character relationships. Basically, you don't have to have read BtMT, but it certainly helps. Word Count: 2376 Links: FFnet | ao3

A/N: Okay, here we go! Welcome to Part II of the Better Together universe! This installment of the story will cover years 2-4, so there'll be a lot going on, and we'll be moving through each year pretty quickly. I've written several chapters of this story already, but not necessarily the first several, so I'm going to try my best to stick to a weekly posting. If all goes according to plan, you can expect a new chapter every Wednesday, and I'll try my best to let you know if I'm going to be late. Beyond that, I don't have much in the way of notes for this chapter - we're picking up largely where we left off. Remus' younger sister died, there was a funeral over the summer, and now the Marauders are returning to Hogwarts for their second year.

Chapter 1: Common Knowledge

“So the one who brought all the chocolate, that was your Uncle Benjy?” Sirius asked, idly moving his rook across the chessboard.

Peter had brought a muggle chess set with him for the train ride, thinking that the others might enjoy it. As the only one of the four boys to have a muggle childhood, Peter often delighted in exposing his friends to various muggle innovations. He’d brought chess, Monopoly, Sorry! and Battleship with him to entertain them on the long train ride. Naturally, they’d begun round robin chess and Battleship tournaments almost as soon as the train left Kings Cross.

“Cecil,” Remus answered, shaking his head lightly, his eyes focused on the board, trying to decide how best to counter Sirius’ move.

“Right,” Sirius said, looking disappointed with himself. “And he’s your father’s brother.”

Again, Remus shook his head, “Mum’s.”

“Bloody hell,” Sirius swore, fisting a hand in his curls.

Remus tore his eyes away from their game and fixed Sirius with a look.

“Sirius, it doesn’t matter,” he said, trying to calm his friend down, but it was no use. Sirius looked furious with himself, but Remus couldn’t understand why remembering the names of his family members was so important.

“IT DOES MATTER!” Sirius exploded, slamming his fist against the compartment door, and it shook noisily.

All three boys looked at him with alarm. They had become acquainted with Sirius’ temper in their first year, and knew well enough that it was best to avoid angering him, but they had never seen him like this. His hands fisted in his messy black curls, ready to tear them out.

“Sirius, it’s all right, just calm down,” James said, trying to pacify his friend.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Remus suggested, flashing his friends a meaningful look. He sensed that Sirius needed some breathing room – he was never any good at processing emotions in front of other people.

“No, I don’t –“ Sirius seethed.

“Too bad, I’m hungry, so let’s find the food trolley,” Remus cut him off, pulling him to his feet and pushing Sirius out the door of the compartment.

Sirius started moving quickly, walking like he was late for something. His agitation was evident in his movements, and Remus tried to keep up while keeping enough distance. When they were a decent distance from their compartment, in a car that was mostly occupied by older students from different houses, Remus finally spoke.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asked, grabbing Sirius’ wrist.

“I’m a bloody idiot, that’s what,” Sirius grumbled in reply, his hands curling into fists at his side.

“No, you’re not,” Remus answered automatically. “Why are you trying so hard to memorize my entire family tree?”

“I don’t know, I just...” Sirius couldn’t seem to find the words, and he looked at Remus, willing the other boy to understand without them, but Remus just waited patiently. “You matter to me, and your family matters to you, so...”

Sirius shrugged, and Remus nodded, smiling. Remus had sometimes wondered if Sirius’ offhanded remark about the inferiority of magical creatures last spring hadn’t affected their friendship more than either of them realized. Sirius seemed to have learned from the mistake, and Remus had genuinely forgiven him, but still... sometimes it niggled at his mind. Forgiven or not, neither of them could ever quite forget that it had happened. And there were moments, every now and then, where Sirius seemed to be extra... well, sweet, to Remus, and he had sometimes considered that it might be his way of trying to make up for what had happened. Remus wondered if that’s what this was, Sirius’ demonstration that Remus’ family, his values were important.

“Thank you,” Remus offered, and Sirius seemed to relax a bit at the words. “But you don’t have to memorize everyone in my family to show me that you care. Just being a friend to me is enough right now.”

“You miss her a lot, don’t you?” Sirius asked quietly.

“All the time,” Remus answered sadly. “But it’ll be easier at Hogwarts, I’ll be busy and it won’t feel quite as strange that she isn’t there.”

Sirius nodded, not sure what else he could say. He’d never met Remus’ sister, but he knew that they had been close, and he couldn’t imagine how painful it would be to lose Regulus, as it was, let alone if he and Regulus had grown up as close as Remus and Zeva had.

“For the record,” Remus said, interrupting Sirius’ thoughts and placing his hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “Asking about her, that’s how I know that you care about me.”

Sirius smiled, and the two of them hugged briefly, before setting off for their compartment again. Peter and James had taken over the chessboard, and Peter was soundly thumping James, who was down to two pawns, a rook, a knight, and his royalty.

The rest of the train ride passed less eventfully. Sorry! had gotten perhaps too competitive, and they had all needed some time to cool off after finishing it. Peter narrowly beat Remus in the chess tournament and James won battleship handily. When the food trolley finally made its way to them, they had gorged themselves on food, until they felt like they would never eat again.

As the sun dipped low over the horizon, Peter, Sirius, and James all dozed off, while Remus pulled out a book and began to read. The final hour to Hogsmeade passed, and Remus shook his friends awake as they pulled into the station.

As the four boys disembarked at Hogsmeade Station, they looked around wondering what they were supposed to do this year. Last year the first years had been called to cross the Black Lake by boat, but they had no idea how the second years had been transported.

“Marlene!” Sirius called, running after the third year girl.

“Hey, what’s up?” she answered, slowing her steps to allow the younger boys to catch up to her. She had grown over the summer, her skinny legs much longer than Sirius’.

“Good summer?” Sirius asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer. “Clearly we don’t take the boats this year, so how do we get to the school?”

“I hope we don’t have to walk,” Peter groaned, rubbing his face tiredly.

“Don’t worry, Pettigrew, you don’t have to walk far,” Marlene laughed. “There’s some carriages that will take us up.”

“Excellent,” Peter sighed.

They followed Marlene up the path to the large wrought iron gates at the edge of Hogwarts’ grounds. Students poured into carriages, six apiece, all lined up, waiting to be occupied. As soon as the doors closed, the carriage would set off, pulled by nothing but a pair of harnesses hanging in midair. The four boys clamored into a carriage with Marlene and Emmeline Vance.

Peter alone seemed content with their company, smiling awkwardly at the older girls. Sirius was looking around, trying to see if he could watch Regulus following Hagrid into the distance. Remus was searching for Georgiana, no doubt, eager to see his best friend outside of their little circle. James was staring into the distance, lost in thought as he watched Lily Evans’ braid disappear into another carriage with Severus Snape. He never could believe that she would be friends with him, the utter dirtbag that he was.

Their carriage set off with a jolt, carrying them up the pathway to the towering castle looming above them. The scenery whisked by them, trees and the lake and the quidditch pitch. Before long, they were pulling up to the carved oak doors of the Great Entrance and climbing out of the carriage. Without ceremony, the students – all but the first years – proceeded through the doors and the Entrance Hall, and into the Great Hall, taking their seats at their house tables.

There was chatter filling the Hall as students caught up with their friends that they hadn’t seen since the end of last term. Even Peter and Remus seemed more talkative than usual as they passed by other Gryffindors. Those who hadn’t been at the funeral offered Remus their condolences, no matter how well they knew him. Sirius rolled his eyes at the insincerity of it all, unable to understand why people would go out of their way to offer sympathy they didn’t really feel to someone they couldn’t care less about.

He flopped into a seat and craned his neck to look toward the doorway, waiting to see when the first years would be brought in to be Sorted and join their new houses. Eventually, Professor McGonagall led the first years through the doors and between the rows of tables, bringing them to a stop in front of the long, high table of professors. She made her speech about how the Sorting would proceed, and then prepared to begin.

Sirius sat at the Gryffindor table, fidgeting as he watched the first years get sorted into their houses. It was a new experience for all of them, sitting on the benches and waiting to find out who would join their ranks, instead standing in terror waiting to find out what test they would be subjected to in order to find out where they fit. Up and down the tables, the second years stuck out like a sore thumb. They were the students sitting with a mix of relief at knowing their place and discomfort at not knowing what to do with themselves Those with younger siblings being sorted – Sirius, Calliope Kendrick, even Caspian Calanon – looked the most nervous.

The Sorting started, and Lloyd Aubrey – Bertram’s younger brother – went to Hufflepuff, followed by a muggle-born named Simon Beringer.

Sirius never wanted Regulus to face the kind of anger from his parents that he’d been subject to. He knew that if Reg were sorted into any house but Slytherin, his parents would be furious. Maybe not as furious as they had been with him, they would find a way to salvage it for darling Regulus, but they’d still be angry. And yet, Sirius felt that being out of Slytherin was Reg’s only chance to get away from their parents’ toxic ideology. He knew that not all Slytherins were bad people, that they didn’t all believe in blood purity and wizarding superiority. Artemis Arandur was lovely, Anselmo Durion was nice enough, and Sirius thought Dagdan Rowle might be on the right side of things, though he was so quiet it was hard to tell. But Sirius knew Reg wouldn’t fall in with those people, the good ones. Reg was quiet, shy, he would gravitate towards the people they already knew from their parents’ parties and they playdates they had been forced into as children. That meant the Warwick twins, Crabbe, Yaxley, and Heino Selwyn. All the people Sirius worked hard to avoid, or better yet, piss off.

Sirius watched as Regulus walked up to the dais, a nervous expression on his face. Even from far away, Sirius could see his brother’s eyes darting from professor to professor, looking for some reassurance that he had nothing to worry about. He took a deep breath as he sat on the stool in front of everyone, his eyes closed as he waited for the Sorting Hat to be placed on his head. It dropped down around his ears, hiding his eyes from the view, and the entire Hall collectively held its breath.

The minutes seemed to drag on, and Sirius felt like his heart was stopped as he waited for a decision. At last, the hat began to stir, opening its mouth, and Sirius raised himself off the bench slightly.

“Slytherin!” it shouted, and Sirius immediately felt himself deflate.

Regulus looked over his shoulder as Sirius as he walked over to the Slytherin table, amid cheers from the pureblood families they had long associated with. He shrugged, and from the look in his eyes, Sirius knew that Regulus was not surprised by his sorting at all, but he thought it might not have been the result he was hoping for.

With a sigh, Sirius sank back into his seat, pouring himself a goblet of pumpkin juice. He paid little attention to the rest of the Sorting Ceremony, barely noticing the new Gryffindors that joined their ranks. A little girl with an innocent looking face and a broad smile sat down next to Lily, and he thought he heard her call the girl Mary. Caspian’s sister, Saxa, ended up in Gryffindor as well, naturally gravitating toward her brother. Two unremarkable boys sat down the able from them, and one who looked like he might be useful at Quidditch once he grew a bit.

James, Remus and Peter were happily chatting about the new year, wondering what the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor would be like, wondering which first years would be the most fun to prank. Sirius couldn’t join their conversation, he couldn’t think about anything. The only thing that kept running through his mind was that he had just lost his brother, probably for good.

[lhugbereth]

Stop biting your lip and bite me instead! Maybe Gladio x Prompto Gimme that SMUT!!!

Heeee~~~eey, more Promptio! I actually just did this quote for another pairing (IgNyx) so it was a little tricky to come up with something different for the plot. But, well, here ya go! Jealous!Prompto and Really-wants-to-be-Dommed!Gladio having a fight and then makeup sex :) 

~1,100 words, semi-NSFW

Sometimes - and only on rare occasions - Prompto can be way worse than Iris. Like today, Gladio thinks, as he follows behind his usually bright, bubbling boyfriend in an ice-cold silence.

Whatever he’s done, it’s apparently bad enough to keep Prompto from speaking to him all day. The blond won’t even look at him - which is particularly unfortunate because Ignis has decided to whisk Noct off to cash in on a Hunt, leaving the two of them behind at camp. Alone. With no interruptions.

They should be halfway to naked by now inside the privacy of the tent, in Gladio’s opinion. But instead, he’s marching after his boyfriend with an armful of the Leidan peppers they’ve just picked, and trying desperately to get some kind - any kind - of reaction out of him.

“Was it the car ride last night?” he tries again, unable to hide the exasperation from his tone. “Did I say something wrong? No? Then this morning - was it the comment about your hair?”

Though he doesn’t stop moving, Prompto does grace him with a cool glance over his shoulder. “What about my hair?”

Finally! Prom might still be pissed, but at least Gladio’s got his attention now. “Well. It was all, uh, poofy, kinda like a baby chocobo, y’know? ”

“Ugh.”

“C’mon, babe, it was a joke. And you love chocobos, right? They’re so cute, just like you.”

“I don’t care about the stupid joke, dude.” The campsite comes into view ahead of them. Carved into the rock, the protective runes glow a gentle, soothing blue in the afternoon sun; yet not soothing enough, it seems, to calm Prompto’s mood. “How do you still not get it?”

Taking a few quick strides forward, Gladio at last catches up with the blond just outside of camp. “Maybe if you tried talking to me instead of ignoring me all day, I’d know what I did to piss you off.”

“It should be obvious!”

He has to clench his jaw to keep from raising his voice in response. “Well, spell it out for me, Prom, ‘cause clearly I ain’t a mind-reader.”

Prompto throws the peppers he’s been holding into a careless pile on top of the prep table. Beside him, Gladio does the same, although with considerably more attitude, and they both turn to face each other with tight, drawn frowns.

“That guy at the diner last night.”

“What guy?”

“The cute waiter. The one who was flirting with you literally the whole night?” A splash of red appears behind dark freckles, and Prompto drops his gaze to the ground between their feet. “You looked so into him.”

For a moment, Gladio doesn’t know how to respond. Doesn’t even remember any waiter or flirting or whatever Prompto is talking about, but clearly it’s still pretty fresh in his mind. “I wasn’t into anyone last night. Except you.”

Prompto actually rolls his eyes. “You just don’t get it, Gladdy. Everywhere we go, the same thing happens. Chicks and dudes throw themselves at you, and I feel like…. I feel like I can’t compete!”

So that’s what this is about. It’s an argument they’ve had before, of course, and the problem boils down to Prom’s lack of confidence more than anything Gladio’s actually done wrong. They both know that - and they both know it isn’t an easy problem to solve. But Gladio has heard this too many times. Why can’t Prompto just trust him? “Not sure how someone flirting with me is my fault. I didn’t even notice.”

“Exactly. You’re just so used to the attention, aren’t you? You don’t even try to fend ‘em off.” Blue eyes start to fill up with the telltale precursor to actual tears, and Prompto hastily rubs at them with his hands. “It’s like you forget I exist at all.”

Nothing, Gladio thinks, could be further from the truth. He’s gotta make Prom understand that - whatever it takes.

His hand is moving before his mind has finished working out a plan. Latches onto one thin wrist and all-but yanks Prompto forward to get his attention. Holds him sternly in place as his eyes darken visibly. “I love you, idiot. Only you. If you’re so worried about other people, then get a little more aggressive.”

The blond blinks, not understanding. “Aggressive? What, like, shooting at them?”

“No, Prom! Ramuh’s beard, I mean with me! Possessive, territorial. Y’know, grab my ass and show everyone else I’m yours.”

“You….” He shakes his head as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You’d let me do that?”

“Let you? Fuck, babe, it’d be fucking hot.” In demonstration, Gladio wraps his free arm around Prompto’s waist, allowing his fingers to squeeze around a mound of firm, mouth-watering ass. Prompto swallows - hard.

“But…. I’m not….”

“Babe.” He’s still on edge. They both are, but he leans in anyway, raking his teeth over Prompto’s soft pink lips in a demanding kiss. Pulls him in closer, just long enough to taste that familiar spark of need, before he’s releasing him again. “You want me? Prove it. Stop biting your lip, and bite me instead.”

In the space of a few heartbeats, Prompto makes up his mind. He doesn’t speak, but that’s because he doesn’t have to - every command is as clear as the afternoon sky above them, and soon enough Gladio’s pinned between him and the table. Groans as Prompto’s mouth closes down on the side of his neck, sharp teeth already beginning to work marks into his skin.

Hungry. Possessive.

Gladio fucking loves it.

By the time they wrestle their way over to the tent, he’s been stripped down to his boxers and left tingling all over where Prom’s mouth has sucked blood up to the surface. Dark, red hickies snake tellingly down from his neck, over the firm muscles of his chest and stomach to his hips, where the blond is currently lavishing the most attention. Prompto yanks off Gladio’s underwear, shoves him onto the bedroll, and shuts him up fast with those expert lips around his cock.

Sometimes, Gladio thinks through the fog clouding his brain, his boyfriend can be jealous and moody and hard to read. He can be tough on himself and too forgiving of others. He can be weak, and strong, cute and sexy, and everything in between. 

There’s absolutely no other way Gladio would have him.

(Except...maybe with less clothing on. But they’re getting there.)

[realcleargoodtimes]

the mother of an Ohio State basketball player grabbed her purse and keys and headed into the night.

“I didn’t know where I was going,” she said, “but I knew I needed to find my child.”

Melissa Smitherman learned her son might be in danger minutes earlier when she received a disturbing phone call. A friend spotted Seth Towns among the protesters standing their ground against police orders during a Black Lives Matter rally in Columbus.

When Smitherman FaceTimed her son to check on him, an unfamiliar man answered her call. The man told Smitherman that Columbus police had just arrested Towns and taken him away, leaving only his phone behind.

For Smitherman, the uneasiness of the next few hours was the scariest experience of her life. She said she “didn’t know what was going to happen” to her son and she was "afraid of what I might find.”

Smitherman started her search for Towns by placing a handful of calls in hopes of discovering where detained protesters were being held. When that proved a dead end, Smitherman drove to the downtown Columbus police station to seek answers in person.

Barricaded streets did not deter Smitherman, nor did the presence of a horde of police officers standing guard in tactical gear. Eyes red and cheeks tear-stained, Smitherman pulled over her car and approached the nearest cop.

A Columbus police sergeant eventually directed Smitherman to a downtown firehouse a few blocks removed from the protests. When she arrived, Smitherman peered through a chain-link fence at the rear of the station and spied a sight no mother ever wants to see.

“My son was sitting with his hands behind his back and I could see that they were zip-tied,” Smitherman said. “My heart broke into a million pieces to see him like that.”

It may have stung Smitherman to see her son in handcuffs, but it didn’t surprise her that he would make such a sacrifice. In many ways, this day was a long time coming for a kid who has always prided himself on being a leader, daring to be different and standing up for what was right.

An uncommon student There is hardly anything about Seth Towns that’s typical of a basketball player with dreams of making the NBA.

The sweet-shooting 6-foot-7 forward has long been as accomplished a student as he is a basketball prospect.

At Northland High School in Columbus, Towns earned all-state honors twice in basketball yet maintained a GPA of above 4.0. He tutored older students, read voraciously and competed for the school’s nationally renowned math team.

Instead of accepting scholarship offers from the likes of Michigan or Ohio State, Towns opted to take a less common path. He selected Harvard out of high school, gambling that he could fulfill his basketball potential in the Ivy League while also receiving an unparalleled education.

“A lot of people in the basketball world were like, ‘Why would you go there?’ ” Towns recalled. “I told them, “It’s a chance to go to the best school in the world. Why wouldn’t I consider it?’ ”

At first, Towns dreamed of becoming a computer software engineer and developing apps for Google. Then a series of events altered his focus, taught him the power of his own voice and caused him to embrace the fight for racial equality.

The son of a black father and a blonde-haired, green-eyed mother, Towns grew up in a family that was pragmatic about racism. James Towns and Melissa Smitherman taught their son to cherish all humans regardless of race or ethnicity yet to never forget that some strangers will view him differently because of his skin color.

That message didn’t fully resonate with Towns until he took a African-American studies class for college credit his junior year of high school. No longer did Towns underestimate racial injustice in America after studying the high-profile deaths of Michael Brown, Eric Garner and other unarmed blacks during encounters with the police.

“It was late in my adolescence, I was starting to form my own thoughts and that was a very pivotal moment in history,” Towns said. “In many respects, it was an awakening for me.”

In December 2014, amidst a national reckoning on police brutality against minorities, Towns decided he wanted to play a role in fighting for meaningful change. He helped organize a protest that not only fostered discussion at his high school but also drew the national media’s attention.

Just before the end of one school day, Towns and his African-American studies classmates gathered in the school’s common area and laid down as though they were dead. Taped to each of their backs were pieces of paper with the words “I can’t breathe,” a slogan derived from Garner’s last words while in a police officer’s chokehold.

Miceli Peña @_MiceliRoyce Northland High School ✊ #Respect #ICantBreathe

View image on TwitterView image on TwitterView image on TwitterView image on Twitter 153 3:44 PM - Dec 12, 2014 Twitter Ads info and privacy 155 people are talking about this “Seth was the kind of student that made you want to be a better educator,” said Kevin Tooson, Northland’s African-American studies teacher at the time. “He was hungry for knowledge, he possessed the intellectual bandwidth to take it all in and if he thought something was wrong, he was willing to stand up and say something about it.”

Seth Town’s inspiration If Towns learned to speak his mind during high school, it was Harvard where he developed his voice. He forged relationships with the kind of people that most college basketball players don’t have on their contact list.

Harvard coach Tommy Amaker organizes a monthly breakfast in Cambridge that exposes his players to leaders from the sports world and beyond. Among the invited guests who Towns now counts as mentors: Best-selling author Mitch Albom, former Secretary of Education Arne Duncan and civil rights activist Dr. Harry Edwards.

It also influenced Towns seeing other high-profile athletes use their clout to further important causes. Towns described himself as “monumentally inspired” after Colin Kaepernick came to Harvard in 2018 and spoke about why he was willing to jeopardize his football career to keep fighting for racial justice.

Perhaps Towns’ biggest source of motivation was a tragedy that reminded him how rare it is for an inner-city kid like himself to have the opportunity to mingle with luminaries or to get a world-class education. On Oct. 19, 2018, close friend and former high school teammate Jordan “Kizzzy” Kinchen died in a double shooting in Columbus.

Kinchen’s murder led Towns to focus on creating more opportunities for underprivileged African-American kids. He researched ways to improve test scores, to offer internships and to provide college opportunities where they didn’t previously exist.

“Seth wanted everyone to believe that if he could do it, they could too,” Smitherman said.

Towns had more time than he wanted to focus on making a difference away from basketball at Harvard because injuries limited his impact on the court.

The Ivy League’s 2017-18 player of the year suffered a right knee injury late in a loss to Penn in that season’s conference title game. Lingering pain in both knees sidelined Towns for both the past two seasons and forced him to undergo surgery last December.

That injury history didn’t keep marquee programs from pursuing Towns when he announced his intent to leave Harvard as a graduate transfer this spring. Towns chose hometown Ohio State over a long list of suitors that included Duke, Kansas, Virginia and Syracuse.

On May 28, the day he graduated from Harvard with a sociology degree, Towns celebrated at a rooftop bar in downtown Columbus. He remembers experiencing a twinge of regret when he peered down at the street below and saw a throng of demonstrators protesting the death of George Floyd without him.

“It made me upset that I wasn’t part of that,” Towns said, “so I decided that the next day  my voice was going to be heard.”

‘Say his name!’ Seth Towns continued to shout, "Say his name!" as Columbus police detained him. (Twitter) Seth Towns continued to shout, "Say his name!" as Columbus police detained him. (Twitter) The protest that ended with Towns in handcuffs began with him fighting back tears.

It was emotional for him to see his hometown come together to demand equal rights.

When Towns arrived, he joined dozens of protesters gathered in front of the Columbus police station calling for justice for Floyd. Once the crowd swelled to about 500, protesters marched up and down High and Broad streets while chanting Floyd’s name.

“Standing among them, I felt such deep solidarity and such deep pain from their voices,” Towns said. “It brought tears to my eyes hearing and feeling all that.”

The mood of the protest became more tense later that evening when police officers sought to clear the area. Columbus police allege that protesters were throwing bricks and rocks, setting off fireworks and breaking windows of downtown businesses.

Towns was among the protesters who chose to stand their ground despite verbal warnings. Police then began using their bikes or horses to push the crowd back by force.

Towns said he was standing with his arms around his throat screaming “I can’t breathe” when six police officers surrounded him and forced his hands behind his back. The Ohio State forward described the incident as “a surreal moment to say the least” and said the officers’ decision to detain him “seemed out of the blue.”

In a video that went viral on social media that night, Towns can be seen shouting, “Say his name!” while officers restrain him. “George Floyd!” a group of protesters yell back.

Seth 💤 @seth_towns17 SAY HIS NAME

Embedded video 2,480 4:01 PM - May 30, 2020 Twitter Ads info and privacy 677 people are talking about this “I was standing up for what I believe in,” Towns said. “I wasn’t stopping whether I was being detained, arrested or beaten.”

A fellow protester who witnessed police take Towns confirmed that he did nothing to provoke them besides stand his ground.

“From what I saw, he was simply not moving from the road,” Eric Bailey said. “I'm not sure what he did that was different from what I had done that would make them detain him and not me. He had not acted aggressively. He had not thrown a bottle. He did not yell at the officers. He did nothing but exercise his first amendment [rights].”

Whatever the reason, Columbus police took Towns away by van and held him at the nearby firehouse with four other protesters arrested that night. There he remained until his mother spotted him through the chain-link fence a few hours later.

From Harvard graduation to the back of a police van If Towns was surprised to find himself in police custody, he was just as shocked to have his mother arrive out of nowhere.

Smitherman even talked her way into the firehouse, where police allowed her to sit alongside her son while he was detained.

“I’ll tell you what crossed my mind when I was sitting there,” Smitherman said. “If I was a black mother, would I have been afforded that same opportunity? Would a black mother have been given the same opportunity to keep her child safe?”

Columbus police eventually released Towns without arresting him. Then his mother drove him home and he got a few hours sleep.

By the time Towns awoke the next morning, his story was everywhere. Media outlets across the country picked up the story of a basketball player who graduated from Harvard one day and was detained by the police the next.

Rather than hide from the story, Towns recognized that he “had a unique opportunity to have people listen.” Later that day, he filmed himself reading a powerful statement that made it clear he had no remorse for his detainment.

Seth 💤 @seth_towns17 Embedded video 5,196 3:47 PM - May 30, 2020 Twitter Ads info and privacy 1,427 people are talking about this “In a span of just 24 hours, I walked across a Harvard virtual graduation stage to the back of a police van, both of which I am equally proud of,” he said.

Towns reiterated that sentiment during an interview on SportsCenter that evening. He pledged to continue to use his voice to speak out for “people who are unheard.”

On May 31, two days after his detainment, Towns returned to downtown Columbus to protest again, this time armed with a megaphone. Towns delivered a passionate speech, telling fellow protesters, “We are here, we are peaceful, we are loud and we will do this every day until we get what we demand.”

Seth 💤 @seth_towns17 We will not be silenced https://twitter.com/_niaChanel/status/1267278174624366598 …

Chanel @_niaChanel Embedded video 1,579 10:12 PM - May 31, 2020 Twitter Ads info and privacy 303 people are talking about this The way Towns sees it, this is a historic moment that the Black Lives Matter movement must seize. Americans are more cognizant of the systemic racism the movement insists persists in this country and more open to embracing change.

“This has been the most educational two weeks of my entire life,” he said. “I’ve learned a ton about how the system works and what steps we need to take going forward.

“My biggest takeaway is that having a few things change with police reform wouldn’t be enough. Now is the time that ending institutional racism needs to be pushed to the forefront of our nation’s efforts. Liberty is what this nation is founded on and right now there is a group of people that is not experiencing the same liberty as others.”

More from Yahoo Sports:

Sharpton calls out NFL at Floyd funeral: ‘Give Kap a job back’

Report: USC to end disassociation with Bush after 10 years

We finally know location of ‘Fight Island’ that will host UFC 251

LeBron criticizes Georgia voting mess: ‘Structurally racist’

Trump heads to Dallas for race relations talk, fundraiser Associated Press One of our best offers ever. Comcast Business Ad ... Preventing police brutality is this upstart law-enforcement equipment company's goal Yahoo Finance Microsoft joins rivals, bars police use of face recognition tech AFP 'Live PD' canceled after report reveals footage of a black man's death in 2019 was destroyed USA TODAY Entertainment Free business bank account w/ no fees or minimums Azlo Business Banking Ad ... Police chokeholds banned in Minneapolis, Houston, cities nationwide after protests USA TODAY Patrick Mahomes talks 'Black Lives Matter' video, George Floyd's death — and whether he'll kneel this season Yahoo Sports The Rush: NASCAR takes down the Confederate flag Yahoo Sports Videos

[dfroza]

to show Love

is the point of Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the Letter of James with chapter #2

[The Royal Law of Love Excludes Prejudice]

My dear brothers and sisters, fellow believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ—how could we say that we have faith in him and yet we favor one group of people above another? Suppose an influential man comes into your worship meeting wearing gold rings and expensive clothing, and also a homeless man in shabby clothes comes in. If you show special attention to the rich man in expensive clothes and say, “Here’s a seat of honor for you right up front!” but you turn and say to the poor beggar dressed in rags, “You can stand over here,” or “Sit over there on the floor in the back,” then you’ve demonstrated gross prejudice among yourselves and used evil standards of judgment!

So listen carefully, my dear brothers and sisters, hasn’t God chosen the poor in the world’s eyes to be those who are rich in faith. And won’t they be the heirs of the kingdom-realm he promised to those who love him? But yet you insult and shun the poor in your efforts to impress the rich! Isn’t it the wealthy who exploit you and drag you into court? Aren’t they the very ones who blaspheme the beautiful name of the One you now belong to?

Your calling is to fulfill the royal law of love as given to us in this Scripture: “You must love and value your neighbor as you love and value yourself!”

For keeping this law is the noble way to live. But when you show prejudice you commit sin and you violate this royal law of love!

For the one who attempts to keep all of the law of Moses but fails in just one point has become guilty of breaking the law in every respect! For the same One who tells us, “Do not commit adultery,” also said, “Do not murder.” Now if you don’t commit adultery but do commit murder, you are still guilty as a law-breaker. So we must both speak and act in every respect like those who are destined to be tried by the perfect law of liberty, and remember that judgment is merciless for the one who judges others without mercy. So by showing mercy you take dominion over judgment!

[Faith Works]

My dear brothers and sisters, what good is it if someone claims to have faith but demonstrates no good works to prove it? How could this kind of faith save anyone? For example, if a brother or sister in the faith is poorly clothed and hungry and you leave them saying, “Good-bye. I hope you stay warm and have plenty to eat,” but you don’t provide them with a coat or even a cup of soup, what good is your faith? So then faith that doesn’t involve action is phony.

But someone might object and say, “One person has faith and another person has works.” Go ahead then and prove to me that you have faith without works and I will show you faith by my works as proof that I believe. You can believe all you want that there is one true God, that’s wonderful! But even the demons know this and tremble with fear before him, yet they’re unchanged—they remain demons.

O feeble sons of Adam, do you need further evidence that faith divorced from good works is phony? Wasn’t our ancestor Abraham found righteous before God because of his works when he offered his son Isaac on the altar? Can’t you see how his action cooperated with his faith and by his action faith found its full expression? So in this way the Scripture was fulfilled:

Because Abraham believed God, his faith was exchanged for God’s righteousness.

So he became known as the lover of God! So now it’s clear that a person is seen as righteous in God’s eyes not merely by faith alone, but by his works.

And the same is true of the prostitute named Rahab who was found righteous in God’s eyes by her works, for she received the spies into her home and helped them escape from the city by another route. For just as a human body without the spirit is a dead corpse, so faith without the expression of good works is dead!

The Letter of James, Chapter 2 (The Passion Translation)

Today’s reading in the New Testament paired with the reading of Leviticus chapter 9 where an ancient ceremony was conducted under the old covenant offerings that again all consummated in the cross of the Son of God. everything before pointed to it just as a shadow of things to come. namely, a divine act of grace.

[Leviticus 9]

When the eighth day arrived, Moses called for Aaron, Aaron’s sons, and the elders of the Israelite community.

This ceremony inaugurated the daily sacrifices in the congregation tent.

Moses (to Aaron): Take a young unblemished calf for a purification offering and an unblemished ram for a burnt offering and offer them to the Eternal One. Then go instruct the Israelites, “Take a male goat for a purification offering and an unblemished calf and lamb, both a year old, for a burnt offering. Take also an ox and a ram for a peace offering and a grain offering mixed with oil, and offer them to the Eternal One for He will reveal Himself to you today.

So the people gathered the sacrifices as Moses had commanded and brought them to the front of congregation tent. The entire community gathered around and stood in the presence of the Eternal One.

Moses: The Eternal One has told us to conduct this ceremony so that His glory will be revealed to you.

(to Aaron) Approach the altar, and present your purification offering and burnt offering. Do this first to cover the impurity of your own life so that you will be fit to cover the impurity of all the people. Then present the offering of the people so that the impurity of their lives may be covered. Do exactly as the Eternal has commanded.

Aaron approached the altar and slaughtered the calf as the purification offering for himself. Aaron’s sons held the blood out to him, and Aaron dipped his finger in the blood and spread it on the four horns of the altar. Then he poured the remaining blood around the base of the altar. After this he removed the fat, the kidneys, and the lobe of the liver of the purification offering and offered them as smoke on the altar, exactly as the Eternal had commanded Moses. He took what remained of the meat and skin and burned it up in a fire outside the camp.

Then Aaron slaughtered the burnt offering and his sons brought him the blood, and he splattered it against the sides of the altar. Then Aaron’s sons gave him all the pieces of the burnt offering, including the head, and he offered them up as smoke on the altar. He washed the organs and the legs with water so nothing unacceptable would be added and offered them with the burnt offering as smoke on the altar.

Now with his own sins covered, Aaron was able to offer the sacrifices for the masses. So he took the goat for the purification offering, slaughtered it, and offered it as reparation for the people’s sin. He did this in the same way he presented the first offering. He brought the burnt offering as well and offered it in accordance with the ordinances God handed on to Moses. Then he presented the grain offering, took some of it in his hand, and offered it up as smoke on the altar in addition to the morning’s burnt offering.

Then he slaughtered the ox and the ram as the peace offerings for the masses. Aaron’s sons gave him the blood, and he splattered it against the sides of the altar. The fat of the ox and ram—the fat tail, the fat covering the intestines, the kidneys, and the lobe of the liver—they put on top of the breasts and offered them as smoke on the altar. Aaron lifted the breasts and the right thigh as a wave offering before the Eternal as Moses commanded.

Then Aaron raised his hands in the direction of the people and blessed them. After he had completed the sacrifices for the purification offering, burnt offering, and peace offerings, he descended from the altar. Moses and Aaron entered the congregation tent. When they returned, they blessed the people, and the Eternal One’s glory appeared to all the people. Then flames erupted from the presence of the Eternal One and devoured the burnt offering and all the fat on the altar. At the sight of this, everyone cried out and fell on their faces.

The Book of Leviticus, Chapter 9 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Tuesday, may 5 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

At some point people will be brought to Heaven without physically dying. and there will be a rebirth of the heavens and beautiful earth as well. these are beautiful and sacred promises made to all of Us by Love

and Love is God.

and God has a way of first writing it down as words inspired by the Spirit within people on earth, to foretell of things that will be...

and this is written about in Today’s message sent by the ICR in Dallas (Institute for Creation Research)

May 5, 2020

Alive into Heaven

“And it came to pass, as they still went on, and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven.” (2 Kings 2:11)

This remarkable event—the translation of Elijah alive into heaven, without dying—was altogether miraculous, but it really happened! Among other things, it assures us that heaven is a real place in this created universe, for Elijah is still there in his physical body, still alive, to this very day.

The prophet Enoch, who had also served God in a time of deep apostasy, had likewise been taken into heaven without dying (that is, into the “third heaven,” beyond the starry heaven, where God’s throne is), as recorded in Genesis 5:24 and Hebrews 11:5. Enoch’s prophecies, addressed to the entire world of mankind, were given at approximately the midpoint of the period from Adam to Abraham, whereas those of Elijah, addressed only to Israel, were given at essentially the midpoint of the time from Abraham to Christ. Both were caught up alive into heaven before their ministries were finished. It is possible that they will return again to Earth as God’s “two witnesses” who will prophesy to both Jews and Gentiles in the last days (note Malachi 4:5-6; Revelation 11:3-12), then finally to be slain and resurrected.

In any case, there will also be one entire generation of believers who will—like Enoch and Elijah—be caught up alive into heaven. “For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven…and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air” (1 Thessalonians 4:16-17).

This could very well be our generation! And “when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2). HMM

[tarjei-harjuk]

Inspiration for inner Tarjei

{  Reblog with 3 GIFs of fictional characters you most associate with your OC. }

{ tagged by: @high-inquisitor​ } { tagging:  @stranger-hearts @kevyntaris @danesbury @eldricceverton }

Malcolm Murray -  Sir Malcolm is a hard, shrewd and intelligent man, a once jovial and enthusiastic explorer turned cold by the anger and guilt he feels over his son's death, his daughter's disappearance and his estrangement from his wife. There’s a part of him that’s very manipulative, driven by obsession and that he’ll use everyone around him to achieve his own ends.  How it relates to Tarjei: Though older than Tarjei he’s my face claim and voice claim to Tarjei. Tarjei too was once a very enthusiastic and jovial father whom was well respected among the Gilnean council of Nobles and many of the local townspeople. However at the death of his wife he turned to the bottle and became embodied with anger and guilt he felt and thus took it out on his ten year old daughter as the path of an abusive drunkard with power consumed him. Turn the clock ahead ten years later the darkness of his actions has caused him to become just as manipulative and driven with obsession over his daughter’s well-being that he used literally everyone around him to get what he wanted. A path that came to a harsh screeching halt in time and crumbled to the ground. 

Viktor  -  Viktor is shown as a skilled but authoritarian leader for the Vampire race. His intransigence and unwillingness to compromise prove to be his downfall. Due to getting his own way and being power hungry, he is bad tempered and violent. Most of the time he is selfish, vindictive, cruel, and hypocritical. He is not completely amoral, nor is he a true sociopath, though his attempts to paint himself as the first Vampire would suggest an extreme case of narcissism. Likely his black and white thinking, unstable relationships, uncontrollable anger and accusations of betrayal/ abandonment hint at borderline personality disorder. He does have traits such as affection and loyalty, examples being Sonja, Selene and Lucian at one point. And in cases such as the murder of Selene's family and the death of Sonja, he quietly acknowledges that he was wrong. But the security of his power he placed above all priorities and moralities. How it relates to Tarjei: This would be the ‘Black Mage’ personality that lives within and is very much a part of Tarjei. To the mind priests whom have delved within him before, this was the personality and part of him that took place after his wife’s death. Much like all of Viktor’s darker personalities this side of Tarjei fully embraced them in his own way just as Viktor did despite being an affectionate man whom holds loyalty close. He too knows he was wrong but his desire to prove his worth and his power over those beneath him is at constant war with his other personality before his wife’s death. 

Dr. Strange -  Strange displayed phenomenal talent in his chosen field, and quickly attained wealth and notoriety. The more successful he became, the more arrogant he grew. After his car accident and learning of the ancient one, he was initially outraged that the aged mystic refused to cure his hands, Strange’s anger was quickly replaced by amazement when the reality of magical forces was demonstrated before his eyes as he witnessed an attack on the Ancient One. Realizing the Ancient One was a force for good; Stephen selflessly abandoned his quest to restore his hands and committed himself to magical tutelage. How it relates to Tarjei: Tarjei has alot of similarities to this character that help me write him. Like Strange, he too was blessed with amazing talents as young magi which lead to him becoming a rather arrogant twat as a young boy. His noble bloodline was further feeding to it however friends along the way helped mold and shape him to keep him from becoming too overly full of himself but it was still a trait he carried into adulthood. He too sought the help of magical forces in his own way and through different means during different stages in his life but it wasn’t until recently that he abandoned his selfishness and decided to finish his quest in becoming a leywalker and return to his magical tutelage. I think the biggest takeaway of this character with Tarjei is that even someone so self absorbed can be later in life enlightened and changed to focus on what is seen as morally good. 

[pokeasleepingsmaug]

Based on the Friday night prompt game from @whenimaunicorn. Thank you so much for this awesome prompt, and also for letting me submit it super late! Sorry it’s so long, it took a turn I didn’t expect when I started writing it :)

It was my older sister, Ingibjorg, who suggested the game. It was played fairly often in our own kingdom, but nobody in Kattegat seemed to know it, and she cackled in delight. “My sister will show you how it's done, then.” She motioned to me. “I need three volunteers.” Nobody moved, unwilling to get in over their heads. “Brave enough to stand in a shield wall, but not brave enough to play a little drinking game? What kind of place is this?” She raised her eyebrows, and then the horn of mead in her hand. “Maybe not deep enough in your cups yet?” As if to demonstrate, she drained her mead. “Look how pretty Thora is. Do you really think she would hurt you?”

A deep chuckle sounded as the first volunteer stepped forward. He was tall, and his long braid fell midway down his back. “We've seen her on the battlefield, Ingibjorg. We have reason to hesitate, but I will play.”

“Is Ubbe the bravest of the sons of Ragnar, then?” Ingibjorg challenged. Immediately, Sigurd set down his ute and stood, always eager to prove himself worthy of his father. Ivar dragged himself forward as well, smirking first at me and then up at his brother, “I can't let dear Sigurd have all the fun.” Ingibjorg dragged three chairs and set them up in a line, and the brothers sat.

She grinned at me, wagging her eyebrows suggestively. “Not a bad selection, little sister.” She raised her voice to explain the rules, “The boys will close their eyes, and they are not to move. Thora will choose one to lick, one to slap, and one to fondle. Does everyone agree to these rules?”

“So we cannot respond?” Ubbe asked. Ingibjorg considered this. “You may respond a little, to keep things interesting. But keep in mind you will all get turns later, too.” He nodded in approval, and Ingibjorg continued, “Close your eyes, and let's begin!” They obeyed, and I considered the choices before me. I knew only a little of the brothers, since this was my first time raiding with them, but what I did know made my decision a little easier. I certainly knew who deserved the slap.

I walked over to Ubbe, sitting still with his hands resting on his knees, and bent my face to his. I let my warm breath tease him for a moment, and enjoyed the pungent scent of mead on his breath, sweet enough to make me a little giddy. I moved slightly to the side and slowly dragged the tip of my tongue along the sculpted line of his jaw, up the center of his chin, and to his lips. They were warm and full, parted either in surprise or pleasure, and I traced their outline. His tongue darted out to gently touch mine, and I laughed. He winked, chuckling warmly, as I pulled away.

Sigurd sat in the next chair, making him the natural choice for my next victim. I stopped in front of him and bent a little, running a hand through the soft curls, and tugged lightly on one of his braids. Next I ran my hands down his shoulders and chest, the coarse fabric of his shirt not concealing the lean strength of the muscles beneath it. I moved my hands to his arms, stopped at his hands, and squeezed the calloused fingers. He squeezed back gently, then released my hands and opened his eyes to grin at me, triumphant because he knew what was coming. His rivalry with Ivar was well known.

I stepped to the last chair. Even with his eyes closed Ivar looked dangerous, but I was confident in my choice. The slap rang out sharply, a faint stinging beginning in my palm, and Ivar struck like a snake. He used his arms to launch himself at me, and I barely had time to move out of his way. He barreled into me like a runaway horse, and his momentum carried us to the wooden floor in a tangled, flailing heap. He quickly writhed loose and pulled himself on top of me, gaining the advantage. As he pinned me, I realized those seemingly useless legs actually made a great deadweight. That was also where the weakness would lie, though.

“To whom are you loyal?” He growled, face hovering above mine. Pressed this close, I could smell the warm musky scent of him, woodsmoke and leather and a little sweat. His breath smelled like mead,sweet and hot, and I hated the unexpected coil of desire stirring in my belly. Damn this bastard, and damn mead, that infamous loosener of legs. His blue eyes bored into me, seeming almost black with fury as he awaited an answer.

“King Finehair.” My voice trembled a little at the word king, and he smirked. Did he think I was scared of him, or did he know the true reason? It didn't seem to matter, because he pressed his advantage by bringing one hand to my throat and applying light pressure, just enough to be uncomfortable. A small edge of fear and anger mingled with the unexpected lust, but it only seemed to strengthen it. How much had I drunk tonight?

“If you swear loyalty to me instead, I will forgive the insult you have given me.” He pressed harder, showing his advantage, but a plan was forming in my mead-fogged mind.

“Never,” my voice rasped painfully around his hand. “What good is loyalty if it changes like the tides?” As I spoke, I slowly bent one knee, trying to get my heel to the floor and get some leverage. I could see him considering my words. “Would you consider fighting for me, Thora, if your king,” he sneered the words, “decided not to raid?”

“Perhaps, or maybe I would like a taste of peace.” I bent my leg further. He was too focused on keeping his grip tight on my throat and my arms pinned to my sides to notice. He lowered his face closer to mine, his mead-sweet breath brushing my dry lips.”Do you fear me, Thora?”

I shrugged, as much as my position would allow. “Not greatly.” His icy eyes narrowed, piercing me, and that was when I made my move. I used my bent leg as leverage to flip us, and landed on top of him with a dull thud as a surprised cry escaped his lips. Although I had my knees digging painfully into his ribs, he had a vicelike grip on my upper arms. He growled low in his throat and yanked me roughly to him, and he kissed me.

There was nothing soft in that kiss, anger and insult and desire giving easy way to an animal lust and the taste of blood as he bit my lip. The copper tang of my blood mixed with the sweetness of the mead on his lips, and I couldn't stop the small, hungry gasp that flew from my lips. He groaned quietly, pressing his mouth hard to mine. His angry lips demanded submission, which I refused to give. He broke off the kiss, his lips and surrounding skin reddened with my blood, and pushed me roughly offof his chest. “Someday, Thora, you will submit to me.”

My heart pounded like Thor's hammer as Ingibjorg hanged me a horn of mead, and I drained it in long gulps. It stung the cut on my lip and reminded me of the taste of Ivar's mouth. I couldn't get rid of the taste of blood and Ivar. I choked and nearly spat out the mead when he turned to my sister and asked sweetly, “When is my turn?”

[nottherealericcarle-blog]

List of published works.

Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? written by Bill Martin Jr, 1967 Appealing animals in bold colors are seen and named in a rhyming question-and-response text that delights as it invites young readers and listeners to participate actively.

1, 2, 3 to the Zoo, 1968 Fun and learning add up to a perfect 10 in this eloquent but wordless counting book. Bright pictures tell the story: each car on the train has one more zoo animal than the one before it, and all arrive happily at the zoo in a dramatic foldout finale.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar, 1969 This all-time favorite not only follows the very hungry caterpillar as it grows from egg to cocoon to beautiful butterfly, but also teaches the days of the week, counting, good nutrition and more. Striking pictures and cleverly die-cut pages offer interactive fun.

Pancakes, Pancakes!, 1970 Jack wants some pancakes, but first he must gather eggs from the chickens, wheat from the farmer, flour from the miller, milk from the cow, etc. His mother shows him how to cook and flip them, and hungry Jack knows what to do with them next.

The Tiny Seed, 1970 Poetic but simple text and lovely collage pictures dramatize the life cycle of all plants, as one tiny seed grows into an enormous sunflower, which then produces more seeds in its turn.

Tales of the Nimipoo by Eleanor B. Hardy, 1970 (out of print) Native American stories, with woodcut illustrations.

The Boastful Fisherman by William Knowlton, 1970 (out of print) An old Hawaiian tale of boastful fishermen who learn their lesson as they try to prove their fishing prowess. Colorful linoleum block print illustrations.

Feathered Ones and Furry by Aileen Fisher, 1971 (out of print) Gentle nature poems with woodcut illustrations, on acetate and art paper.

The Scarecrow Clock by George Mendoza, 1971 (out of print) Full color collages illustrate an amusing fantasy.

Do You Want to Be My Friend?, 1971 In few words but expressive pictures, a little mouse looks for a friend - and happily finds one just in time to save himself from a predator who has been hiding there all the time - unseen, but in plain sight! A simple story on the universal theme of friendship.

Rooster’s Off to See the World, 1972 Rooster and the colorful animals that join him on his journey to see the world, provide an enjoyable introduction to the meaning of numbers and sets.

The Very Long Tail (Folding Book), 1972 (out of print)  

The Very Long Train (Folding Book), 1972 (out of print) These two wordless books (now collectors’ items) are printed on heavy stock, accordion-folded, and come in their own plastic cases. “Read” or looked at in sequence, each tells a story in bright collage pictures. These innovative books can also stand alone, toy like, to form a decorated wall or play area for a child of pre-reading age.

The Secret Birthday Message, 1972 A message in code starts Tim off on an exciting treasure hunt through a dark cave, an underground tunnel, and other strange places until he finds a happy surprise. Die-cut pages demonstrate in a “hands on” way the meanings of place-words like up, below, through, etc.

Walter the Baker, 1972 By order of the Duke, Walter the Baker must invent a tasty roll through which the rising sun can shine three times. A lively and colorful retelling of the legend of the invention of the pretzel.

Do Bears Have Mothers Too? by Aileen Fisher, 1973 (out of print) Striking, poster-like pictures of a variety of animal mothers with their offspring - cubs, kittens, cygnets, and other charmers - are accompanied by verses by a beloved nature-poet.

Have You Seen My Cat?, 1973 A boy’s beloved pet cat has disappeared and he sets out to find it. In his search he meets many different kinds of cats, both wild and domesticated, before he finally discovers his own cat, who has a happy surprise for him. (Can you guess what it is?)

I See a Song, 1973 As a violinist, shown in black and white, starts to play, colorful semi-abstract images emerge from his music, transmuting magically from one to the next until the end, when the violinist, himself transformed into a many-colored figure, bows and leaves. Wordless, this beautiful book encourages children to develop their own visual and musical imagination and creativity.

My Very First Book of Numbers My Very First Book of Colors   My Very First Book of Shapes   My Very First Book of Words, 1974 A collection of split-page books in which children can match various familiar objects with numbers, colors, shapes, and words. A gamelike approach to learning, for very young children.

Why Noah Chose the Dove written by Isaac Bashevis Singer, 1974 Master story-teller and master illustrator combine their brilliant talents to produce a fresh and lively version of this favorite Old Testament tale of the animals as they vie with one another for a place of honor on Noah’s Ark. For all ages.

All About Arthur, 1974 (out of print) An Amusing And Articulate Alphabet-ical story for all ages, in well-chosen words and Zany pictures.

The Hole in the Dike written by Norma Green, 1975 The classic tale of the brave little Dutch boy who kept his finger in a leak in the dike all night long, preventing the damage from spreading, and so saved his town from a devastating flood. Inspiring story of a courageous small boy.

The Mixed-Up Chameleon, 1975 Hilarious pictures show what happens when a bored chameleon wishes it could be more like other animals, but is finally convinced it would rather just be itself. An imagination-stretcher for children.

Eric Carle’s Storybook, Seven Tales by the Brothers Grimm, 1976   (out of print) Seven of the most popular tales by the Brothers Grimm, retold by Eric Carle and illustrated in full color.

The Grouchy Ladybug, 1977 A grouchy ladybug who is looking for a fight challenges everyone it meets regardless of their size or strength. How this bumptious bug gets its comeuppance and learns the pleasures to be gained by cheerfulness and good manners is an amusing lesson in social behavior. Die-cut pages add drama and dimension.

Watch Out! A Giant!, 1978 Die-cut pages add to the excitement as two children outwit a scary giant.

Seven Stories by Hans Christian Andersen, 1978 (out of print) A companion to Eric Carle’s Storybook (above), this features seven favorite stories retold and illustrated by Eric Carle.

Twelve Tales from Aesop, 1980 (out of print) Familiar classic fables retold and illustrated by Eric Carle.

The Honeybee and the Robber, 1981 A brave little honeybee saves the day when a big hungry bear attacks the beehive. Ingenious pop-ups and other movable images bring this funny and informative story to vivid life.

Otter Nonsense by Norton Juster, 1982 (out of print) Very amusing, cartoon-like line drawings illustrate excruciatingly clever puns by noted author Norton Juster. Fun for all ages.

Catch the Ball! Let’s Paint A Rainbow   What’s For Lunch?, 1982 This delightful series incorporates movable parts, cutout shapes, and sturdy board pages that have been designed to encourage counting, adding, color naming, object identification, beginning reading, and manual dexterity.

Chip Has Many Brothers written by Hans Baumann, 1983 new title: Thank You, Brother Bear, 1995 An original tale,which skillfully combines elements of both North European and Native American traditions, tells of a little boy, Chip, who must make a long and dangerous journey to get the medicine that will cure his sick sister. Because he is both brave and kind, he is helped by the animals he meets along the way.  

The Very Busy Spider, 1984 With the use of raised printing, this innovative book adds the sense of touch to vision and hearing as ways to understand and enjoy the strikingly designed illustrations and the memorable story. Various farm animals try to divert a busy little spider from spinning her web, but she persists and produces a thing of both beauty and usefulness. Enjoyed by all audiences, this book’s tactile element makes it especially interesting to the visually-impaired.

The Foolish Tortoise written by Richard Buckley, 1985 A witty modern fable tells how a tortoise discovers the need for a shell after several scary encounters.  

The Greedy Python written by Richard Buckley, 1985 A companion book to The Foolish Tortoise (above), this tells of a python who is so excessively greedy that it finally eats itself.  

The Mountain that Loved a Bird written by Alice McLerran, 1985 A sensitive, poetic text inspires handsome, semi-abstract college illustrations, in this tale of a little bird that brings a renewal of life and happiness to a lonely, barren mountain.

All Around Us, 1986, (out of print)  

Papa, Please Get the Moon for Me, 1986 Beautiful illustrations are enhanced by dramatic fold-out pages in this moving and imaginative tale of a father’s love for his daughter. Monica’s father fulfills her request by bringing the moon down from the sky after it’s small enough to carry, but it continues to change in size.

My Very First Book of Sounds My Very First Book of Food My Very First Book of Tools My Very First Book of Touch My Very First Book of Motion My Very First Book of Growth My Very First Book of Homes My Very First Book of Heads, 1986, (all out of print) A group of small-format books with bold, simple images and words, designed, as the titles indicate, for the very young child who is just learning to identify, name, and classify familiar objects.  

All in a Day collected by Mitsumasa Anno, 1986 Eric Carle, in collaboration with nine other internationally-acclaimed artists, reveals events in a day in the lives of children in various countries all over the world, showing time, climate, environmental and social differences but emphasizing the commonality of humankind everywhere. Thought-provoking as well as entertaining.  

A House for Hermit Crab, 1987 An underwater fantasy based on the true habits of hermit crabs and the flora and fauna of their marine environment, this book offers young readers an interesting first introduction to marine biology as well as an appealing story of Hermit Crab’s search for a house he can really call his home, as he grows throughout one year’s cycle.

The Lamb and the Butterfly written by Arnold Sundgaard, 1988 A protected lamb and an independent butterfly discuss their very different ways of living in a charmingly simple yet philosophical text on the themes of tolerance and diversity. Lovely full-color illustrations appeal to a wide audience range.

Eric Carle’s Treasury of Classic Stories for Children, 1988 A delightfully illustrated retelling of 22 favorite folktales, fairytales, and fables that every child should know. Retold from the works of Aesop, Hans Christian Andersen, and the Brothers Grimm.

Animals Animals compiled by Laura Whipple, 1989 A generously illustrated collection of poems by a variety of authors, describing the peculiarities and charms of pets as well as both wild and domestic animals. Eric Carle is noted for his depiction of animals and this colorful anthology contains some of his finest works.

The Very Quiet Cricket, 1990 The surprise ending of this enormously popular book features a chip that perfectly reproduces the real sound of a cricket’s song. In the story, a young cricket longs to make a sound by rubbing his wings together as many other crickets do. How he finally gets his wish is a romantic tale as well as a first look at natural history for the very young.

Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear? written by Bill Martin Jr, 1991 Easy, repetitive question-and-response text draws children into joyful interaction as they imitate the sounds of a variety of zoo animals for the zookeeper. Big, bold animal illustrations and lots of noisy fun.

Dragons Dragons compiled by Laura Whipple, 1991 Fearsome dragons and other fantastic legend creatures abound in this collection of poems, both modern and classic, all gloriously illustrated in full color, that will expand the world of a reader’s imagination.

Draw Me a Star, 1992 The artist’s drawing of a star begins the creation of an entire universe around him as each successive pictured object requests that he draw more. Based on Eric Carle’s recollection of his grandmother’s way of drawing a star (directions included), this seemingly simple story also provides insights into an artist’s private world of creativity. An inspiring book.

Today Is Monday, 1993 Based on the well-known children’s song, funny, full-color pictures show the foods featured for each day of the week. In a thoughtful new ending to the familiar text, all the world’s children are invited on Sunday to come and eat it up.

My Apron, 1994 A little boy longs to help his uncle, a mason, plaster the chimney. He feels very grown-up when he gets a work-apron of his own and the chance to do his own small share in real “grown-up” work. A touching story with a valuable message, illustrated in a striking technique using a strong black outline over bright color. A usable, child-size work-apron is included with the book for the reader who can’t wait to get started on his or her own work project.

The Very Lonely Firefly, 1995 Young readers empathize with the lonely firefly who makes many errors as he looks for the group where he will really “belong.” In his search for compatible companions, he meets many other night creatures, but none is quite right—until the happy surprise at the very end when the illustration of a swarm of friendly fireflies literally shines and twinkles a welcome in the night. Heartwarming.

Little Cloud, 1996 Every child loves to see fanciful shapes in the clouds. But what are clouds really for? Here a little cloud slips away from its parent clouds and turns itself into a series of wonderful forms - a sheep, an airplane, a hat, a clown - before rejoining the other clouds as they perform their real function: making rain.

The Art of Eric Carle, 1996 This handsomely-designed volume explores many facets of Eric Carle’s life and work. It includes an autobiography, illustrated with many photographs, telling of his early years in the United States, describing the roots of his inspiration, his art education in Germany, his career as a commercial artist on his return to the land of his birth, and his almost accidental discovery of his real vocation—creating beautiful picture books for young children. Essays and critical appreciations of his works, and color photographs showing how the artist creates his unique collage illustrations add to the interest and usefulness of this book. Fine reproductions of many of his best illustrations and a complete list of his books are included.

From Head to Toe, 1997 “I can do it!” is the confidence-building message of this book. As young children copy the antics of Eric Carle’s animals, they’ll learn such important skills as careful listening, focusing attention, and following instructions. Just as alphabet books introduce letters and simple words, From Head to Toe introduces the basic body parts and simple body movements - the ABC’s of dancing, gymnastics, and other sports activities.

Flora and Tiger: 19 very short stories from my life, 1997 Every so often, children who have grown up enjoying Eric Carle’s books ask him whether he has written “older” books. Inspired by his questioners, Eric Carle has written this delightful collection of short stories. The events in these stories take place from his earliest childhood to the present. All of the stories are true. But they are set down, not in the order in which they happened, but as they occurred to the author. They come from various places and times of his life and have three things in common: animals or insects, friends or relatives, and Eric Carle.

Hello, Red Fox, 1998 Mama Frog gets a big surprise when the guests arrive for Little Frog’s birthday party: Red Fox looks green to her! Orange Cat looks blue! With the active help of the reader, Little Frog shows Mama Frog how to see the animals in their more familiar colors. In this book, Eric Carle invites readers to discover complementary colors while enjoying the amusing story of Little Frog and his colorful friends.

You Can Make a Collage: A Very Simple How-to Book, 1998 Many people ask Eric Carle how he makes his pictures. Klutz Press and Eric Carle got together to answer that question in this simple how-to book, featuring 72 full-color printed tissue papers painted by Eric Carle with instructions and inspirations and even a bit of encouragement for those in a bit of need.

The Very Clumsy Click Beetle, 1999 HEAR the beetle CLICK as it flips through the pages of this book and learns how to land on its feet! Small readers will recognize and empathize with the clumsy little beetle’s eagerness to learn what the older beetle can already do so well. They will understand, too, its frustration when at first it fails. And they will surely rejoice in its eventual spectacular triumph.

Does A Kangaroo Have A Mother, Too?, 2000 Meet the little joey, whose kangaroo mother carries him in her pouch. See the cygnet riding on the back of the mother swan. Eric Carle’s colorful collages of animal babies with their caring and affectionate mothers offer small readers visual delight as well as comforting reassurance.

Dream Snow, 2000 It’s Christmas Eve, and an old farmer settles down for nap, wondering how Christmas can come when it hasn't snowed yet. The farmer falls asleep and in his dream, he imagines snowflakes covering him and his animals. He awakens to discover it really has snowed. A surprise at the end of the book makes this a truly magical Christmas.

“Slowly, Slowly, Slowly,” said the Sloth, 2002 Slowly, slowly, slowly... that’s how the sloth lives. He hangs upside-down from the branch of a tree, night and day, in the sun and in the rain, while the other animals of the rain forest rush past him. “Why are you so slow? Why are you so quiet? Why are you so lazy?” the others ask the sloth. And, after a long, long time, the sloth finally tells them!.

Where Are You Going? To See My Friend!, 2003 A dog, a cat, a rooster, a goat, a rabbit, and finally a child join together on a journey to see their friends in this unique bilingual collaboration that unites cultures and languages.

Panda Bear, Panda Bear, What Do You See? written by Bill Martin Jr, 2003 Panda Bear, Panda Bear, What Do You See? is told from the point of view of endangered creatures, and one dreaming child; each page a tribute to wild animals and their freedom.

Mister Seahorse, 2004 Mister Seahorse and fellow fish fathers who care for their soon-to-be-hatched offspring, share their stories while acetate pages reveal camouflaged creatures who bear witness to the conversation between fathers with fins.

10 Little Rubber Ducks, 2005 10 Little Rubber Ducks fall overboard and land on shores all around the world. Inspired by the true story of these ducks at sea, Eric Carle has imagined their voyage in the wide open waters and the creatures they meet who live in and around the ocean.

Baby Bear, Baby Bear, What Do You See?, 2007 Join Baby Bear as he sets out to look for his beloved Mama Bear, meeting a diverse cast of North American animals along the way. Readers of all ages will enjoy the rich, colorful illustrations and heartfelt story of this last collaboration in a series that has helped millions learn to read.

The Artist who Painted a Blue Horse, 2011  

FRIENDS, 2013  

The Nonsense Show, 2015  

[3one3]

The Sequel - 810

How Long

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“What’s that delicious smell?”

“A whole salmon with honey, lemon, and garlic. I hope you’re hungry.”

“I’m hungry, but I don’t know if I’m eat-a-whole-salmon hungry. How much salmon are we talking about?”

“Like...this much...maybe?”

André smiled at Christina’s “diligent face” while she tried to demonstrate the dimensions of the large piece of fish she found in the fresh market. Stefanie and Kyle were trying to work on their cooking skills, so after everyone did their riding on Saturday morning they convinced their coach to go shopping with them for ingredients to make “something good that we can eat for a few days”. They spent a lot of cash on dressing up their apartment and were spending quite a bit on eating out too. They wanted to eat healthier and cheaper, and not have to drive so much. Their place was not close to the barn at all. Extra driving on top of the commute was not appreciated. Stefanie was used to oatmeal, salads, and really basic dinners. Kyle was used to buying out the ready-made section at the grocery store, being taken out by his parents, and having their in-house cook prepare things for him to take home from family dinner. Christina detected some collaborative motivation going on, as if the two young riders were inspired to do better in the kitchen because it could be a team effort and maybe that was better than judging each other for their regular eating and cooking habits.

Their motivation worked out to her benefit, because they found out about a great fresh foods market in the city. They bought three nice looking Pink salmon, which were “whole” but not “wholly intact”, meaning they were ready to cook, no trimming necessary, a 6lb chuck roast, and tons of produce. Their riding trainer walked Stefanie and Kyle through two meals right in her own kitchen while everyone watched Dortmund lose by two goals to one at Hertha Berlin. She showed them how to make a hearty beef stew with onions, carrots, potatoes, turnips, and green beans, and graciously allowed them to take it home in one of her Dutch oven pots, then they made two of the fish, the same way the third one was cooking when André got home from the airport. It was baked in foil first with a liberal helping of the sauce made from coconut oil, raw honey, lemon juice, and garlic, and then caramelized quickly under the broiler. The explanation he got for the quantity of fish was the same as they got.

“You eat it hot tonight and then you can have it cold in a salad tomorrow, or even in an omelette, and Lukas loves it cold with anything. I can even mix it with some plain yogurt and onion and celery and give it to him like tuna salad for a sandwich,” Christina told him. As Stefanie and Kyle came to understand, there are tons of ways to eat leftover salmon for a few days. Christina had no intention of eating any of it, but she also got a bunch of other food at the colorful, bountiful, and reasonably priced market, so she had plenty to eat before she even got started on the footballer’s fish.

“Okay,” he laughed. It was quite novel for him to see his girl back in “I want to do nice things for you” mode. He liked it when she tried to be the perfect housewife, not because he valued housewife behavior but because she was always cute about it, and she wanted to take care of her people for her own satisfaction rather than some obligation. He was also just glad that she wasn’t bursting at the seams to deliver a lecture about his team’s performance, which was lethargic, inefficient, and careless. Tuchel committed the same crime as many others before him. He tried to rotate, but instead of changing one or two players and still preserving the balance, system, and shape of his team, he made three changes and changed everything. The system they started with was dysfunctional and made no use of anyone’s talents or strengths, Matze Ginter made a typical Matze Ginter mistake and gave up a goal, they got their act together with a major tactical overhaul at half time, Auba got an equalizer, things were finally coming good, Tuchel used substitutions to overload in attack, his defenders were exposed on the break and gave up many free kicks, and Hertha scored a winner from one of them. André missed a chance in the first two minutes because he was overeager and desperate to prove himself. Auba missed a clear chance set up from some great team play. Other opportunities were not capitalized on. André wasn’t happy with himself, with the teammates who missed his better runs or couldn’t make something of the chances he created for them, and the manager, for not figuring out sooner than the way he set his team out was useless and duly changing the system to get his two forwards more involved. He knew Christina must have wanted to break the TV throughout that game, and he was mostly right. She paid as much attention as she could while tutoring her riders in the basics of stews.

“Go change if you want. It’s done in two minutes,” she advised in the spacious foyer. It had its own wood-burning fireplace.

“Mausi isn’t still up, is he?” The BVB man leaned to the left for a more complete view of the living room behind her.

“He had the last of the pot pies and pot-pie-passed out. In the highchair. With his cup in his hand.” His wife imitated their son’s posture when he couldn’t wait for her to finish making the sauce for the fish on the stove, and just got a head start on bedtime. She then shoved him by the waist toward the stairs and told him to hurry up. He took two steps and then paused to watch her literally prance through the living room in her furry slippers. Christina was just in a hurry to get to the broiler and make sure she didn’t overcook her fish, but André read it as excitement. He thought she was that happy to have him home again.

He’d been involved in a repair campaign since she made it clear to him on Thursday that she was lonely and bored because he was hardly home, and not just because she missed London, had no close friends around to do things with, and had little on her work schedule beyond regular riding and teaching. They went out for dinner that night, and he talked her into saving her riding for the afternoon on Friday so that they could hang out with Lukas at home until he had to go to Brackel and the team hotel. Some small courtesies were part of his effort to make his wife feel more at home. For example, he programmed an easy to navigate to set of favorites on the TV with all the pertinent UK-originated channels so that she could find all her regular shows without having to browse through all the domestic channels. He texted more too while he was away. Significant football match or no significant football match, he wanted to make Christina want to be home more than she wanted to go back to London. There was still no sex, but she was at least a little warmer to him while he was there. Her eyes weren’t so empty or sad.

There was a plate on the counter for him with a big section of the delicate but meaty pink fish, dark orange and almost crisp on top, moist and tender inside. It was garnished with the remnants of two lemon slices from the packet it cooked in, fresh parsley, and coarse ground pepper. There was also brown rice and a pile of greens dressed in the sweet and lightly acidic honey, lemon, and garlic sauce. It smelled even better than when it was in the broiler, and much to André’s delight, there were two glasses of white wine at the tall stools.

“You ate already, Prinzessin?”

“I had the same with but with broiled chicken breast. Sit. Eat,” Christina ordered. She was refilling the dogs’ water bowl.

“Sit with me.”

“I’m going to.”

“This looks very nice. Did you try it? Salmon is a fish you pretend to tolerate when other people feed it to you.”

“No, but I made it earlier with Kyle and Stef too and they had it for dinner and loved it. I don’t know how hungry you are, but there’s more rice and more salad.”

“I just ate after the match a few hours ago, so this is plenty. Cheers, pretty girl.” André clinked his glass of chilled Viognier with hers when she climbed into the tall wooden stool beside his. The new ones had backs to them, and were more comfortable than the more humble and basic round ones of their old place. They were also a greater ask to sit in since the eating part of the vast island was raised a few inches above the work surface part and they were tall to compensate. She took a big gulp of her favorite wine and then watched on with anticipation as the player sampled the salmon.

His attempts to improve the current state of their relationship were not unnoticed. Christina appreciated them even though they didn’t do much for her core problems. Missing Juan was still difficult. Believing things would get markedly better with her partner was still difficult. Accepting that different isn’t automatically worse was still difficult. And it still felt like the life she wanted to live was the one that happened when she was with the Spaniard, no matter which country that happened in. Those times were “good” life, and all the travel and back and forth with André was the “bad” life. Settled in Dortmund wasn’t as good as the “good” yet. It was closer to the “bad”. The Londoner was trying to open herself up to feeling good about those things- to remain ready to receive a positive feeling instead of constantly expecting only negative. And it was killing her that André was hurting because of her. He wasn’t just annoyed, or frustrated, or hurrying past that which he didn’t want to acknowledge in favor of getting closer to that which he did. He was actively upset about the state of their relationship too. It was painful for him too despite his questions about it surely being different from Christina’s.

And then there was football. Whether he was or wasn’t putting enough person pressure on himself, she saw him unhappy about his performances and contributions much more often than he was happy. Making dinner for him was supposed to provide an avenue to celebrate a great appearance. The ginger bearded forward was supposed to justify his inclusion and shut up all the doubters. Instead he blew that early chance and set the wrong tone for the whole match. The commentators said he should have done better. His wife thought they didn’t look that closely. He had to rush the shot. A defender almost got a toe on it. He didn’t have all day. It was probably his second touch of the match, after the first one to take it into space to get the shot off. They harped on it through the whole game. At one point he was in a good spot in the box and literally slipped and fell down while trying to get on the end of a cross. It was unlikely he’d get to it anyway, but it still looked bad and no doubt had critics facepalming. Blaming André for club problems was becoming quite popular among a subset of the fans and many of the established bloggers. He did the post-match interviews and said they lost due to small details, and that he wasn’t blaming anyone. He said it was a frustrating afternoon. His wife didn’t see or hear frustration coming from him. All she saw was sadness and disappointment. During the game, that frustration was real. It bubbled over into a late challenge at one point. During the brief periods when everyone had some rhythm going, and interplay was quick and purposeful, André looked pretty strong and capable. Christina was sure he thought he was going to get a chance to make up for the early miss. He even had a good shot just before being subbed late on, missing only by inches. His girl knew that sadness and dejection and disappointment. Her fancy salmon became a consolation dinner.

“I know I say this every time you make something new, but you are the best wife,” the target of her culinary therapy nodded while he chewed. “This is fantastic. I’m gonna want this all the time now.” I have like half of the wife perks back now, he added to himself. Tonight, I want the sex part back. She is so ugh, nom when she prances around in the boyshorts and her slippers. I’ve hardly seen her legs since she moved in.

“Well it’s very easy to make and it takes 20 minutes total so you can have it whenever you like. I got tons of berries and fruit today too.”

“So you had a good day, yeah? You said the horses were all happy to work outside?”

“Mhm. How about you, boyfriend?” Christina took a smaller sip from her glass and then turned her lip over in a sympathetic pout. “Do you want to talk about the game?”

“Not really. I could have been better, everyone else could have been better, and Tuchel could have been better. I bet you already know how I feel about it,” André shrugged, eyes on his food. Getting the rice, the fish, and the bitter leaves all together made for a really nice bite. I would rather discuss the food. When I say I know she knows how I feel already what I really mean is I hope she does, because she used to be good at that, and because I don’t want to have to spell it out. I can tell she’s not in the mood to do “I told you so”, or she just knows I don’t want to hear it, he thought as he felt a small hand arrive near the middle of his back. So maybe she knows what’s up with me better than I know what’s up with her lately.

“I don’t understand why he chooses to play Matze when Papa is out. Like, don’t take out the best defender you have and put in the worst. If you need to give Matze playing time, put him next to Julian, or if it has to be at center back then do it when Papa is playing and he’s protected.”

“I don’t know. Where you going?” the player asked unhappily when he realized the comforting hand lifted from his back and its owner was sliding off her seat.

“To put the rest of the fish away. I need to get in the shower so my hair has time to dry before bed. Excessive vegetable peeling, chopping, and juicing makes my arms tired. I can’t hold a dryer.” Christina shot her “poor me” face over her shoulder at him at the same time as her phone vibrated where she left it on the counter.

“What about your wine?” What about sitting with me while I eat, André complained in silence, reaching for the device.

“Cute picture. Didn’t you say you slept all the time as a baby and your mum couldn’t wake you up to eat?” he read from the message preview while she assured him she’d finish her drink later. Did she take a picture of Mausi passed out in his chair and send it to him and not me? That’s not nice. He tapped in her passcode so that he could look at the context in which the message was sent, and sure enough his wife had sent his old teammate a photo of their little boy looking a bit like a drunk, hugging his drink to his chest but completely out. There was a picture before that of two big pieces of fish just like the one the German was eating. He glanced guiltily up at Christina’s back, checking to see how close she was to being done trying to cut the salmon into pieces she could stack in a large plastic container. Spying on her text conversations always felt a little intrusive to him, whether there was anything to hide in them or not. It made him feel like an overly protective parent checking up on a child, firstly, which was disrespectful to his grown up wife, and then he felt like a controlling husband, which made him ask himself if he had doubts about her truthfulness. He didn’t. He trusted her. He had to. So checking up on that trust didn’t feel right. He closed the messaging app and opened her photos instead, because he could justify that in a less distrusting way. He could argue, to himself mostly, that he just wanted to see what else he’d missed the photo-documentation of that perhaps the Spaniard hadn’t.

What he saw created a shuddering pain in his chest. There were tons of recent photos she never shared with him. Some weren’t meaningful to him anyway, like shots of her horses in their new home, Spencer and Lucky sleeping together in one of their cubby beds in the tack room, and disorganized mountains of moving boxes. Then there were pictures that did matter- tons of landscape shots of Mallorcan scenery, sleepy selfies his girl took while leaning on a chest that wasn’t his, “outfit of the day” type shots he knew she never posted on social media or anything, cute Lukas things like him sitting in a saddle on a saddle rack or leading one of the horses in the barn, and most concerning, selfies with more than just Juan’s headless torso. There were a handful of photos of them making silly faces together, or Christina kissing him. There were photos of just the other player by himself. None of it was limited to just one trip to see him or anything like that, and they weren’t even all photos she took herself. She’d collected photos from Sweden from the professional photographers, including her champagne spraying but also her hugging Juan outside the ring, and Juan in some kind of standoff with Dirk. The Spanish midfielder was wearing her horse show backpack and holding her show coat over one arm with a plastic cup of something in his hand, and Dirk clearly wanted whatever was in the cup. He had his bridle and ear net on, and his ears were back. He didn’t get as far as the mirror picture of Juan holding and kissing his naked wife. He didn’t need to. Everything after that was bad enough. The hurt in his heart mixed with sickness and he didn’t want to eat anymore.

“Can you put the lids on these containers when you’re done eating?” she asked without turning around. “I don’t want to cover them while the fish is still warm. I used two separate containers so that they would finish cooling faster.”

“How long have you been in love with Juan again?” André asked back plainly. He heard something fall in the sink next to her. She takes selfies when she feels good about herself, or her thinks her makeup is really good. She only saves horse show pictures when the show meant something to her. She used to send me tons of Mausi photos- even uninteresting ones of him doing nothing- and I’ve never seen any of these. Who is she taking pictures of herself in the mirror for if not me and if not to post for her sponsors or whatever? They’re for him, he concluded for the second time since browsing her album. The rider briefly panicked, and dropped the pie server she’d been using to pick up the fish, assuming the noise made by her phone was Juan texting her something that wasn’t meant for André’s eyes. Her heart beat loud enough to hear it in her ears for a few seconds, and then the sound and the sensation quickly evaporated, replaced by something like relief.

“I’m not really sure,” she admitted, her back still to her partner. She was sure being rid of a sort of secret made her feel lighter on her feet. Each time she tried to talk to André about the core problems she believed had taken root in their relationship, she left out the fact that there was an outside influence at play too. She never framed any of her complaints or explanations in the context of the alternative she had going on- in context of the relationship that was highlighting all the ways her marriage was damaged and unsatisfying in that moment. The rider never really felt guilty about not giving André 100% of the details of the time she spent with Juan. She never felt guilty for not saying “You’re doing this, that, and the other thing all wrong and he does it right”, because she didn’t want it to be a contest. But she did feel like she was keeping something from everybody, and her partner had just nailed it. At some point, she went from loving her best friend to being in love with him again, despite her constant reassurances to herself that she wasn’t doing that, and wasn’t crossing a line, or giving to the Spaniard that which was supposed to be reserved for the other one- that thing that was supposed to demarcate the difference between her relationships with the two. She promised André that Juan wouldn’t become her partner. He wanted something reserved for him. Her hold on that gave out at some point.

“You told me a long time ago that you were trying to keep yourself away from him when things got too intense because you want to be with me, and didn’t want to put yourself in a situation that could lead to hurting us. So if you’re not doing that anymore, and you’re going on trips with him and having him at your horse shows, and being with him enough that you fall for him again, should I take that to mean you don’t want us to be together anymore?” he asked, tone still plain and steady. Christina squeezed her eyes shut for a second and then blinked a bunch of times, preparing herself to be completely honest. She was too chicken to personally shoot out the thread she believed her marriage was hanging on, but she wasn’t too chicken to load the gun and hand it to André. She’d tell him the truth and if it upset him enough, then it was he who would put an end to everything and not her.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I want us to be together no matter what anymore because I don’t know if either of us even likes being together anymore. I know that it’s so hard with you right now and it shouldn’t be. We’re finally in one place and everything should be great, and it’s not. It’s so easy with him. I feel good when I’m with him, and...I miss him when I’m not. I’m happy with him. You and I haven’t been happy together for more than a week at a time since last June, and even that was kind of an anomaly. Honestly, it’s not even a comparison situation anymore. It’s not like “which one is better?” It’s more like...I feel so good with him that it’s hard to ignore it. I used to just hang out with him all the time because I needed to get away from us fighting all the time. Now I want to be around him because...it’s just nice. Even when you and I aren’t actively involved in a war. It has nothing to do with you and me anymore. I go to him for him now, instead of going there for not-you, if you get what I mean. I don’t know. I can’t stop talking and I know it’s hurting you so can you say something so I can shut up? I don’t know. I guess the actual answer to your question is that I do still want us to be together, because I am here, and I am trying to give us a chance still, the way you asked me to.”

“But you’re not committed enough to giving it a chance that you keep yourself away from something that hurts that chance. Can you turn around? You can’t say these things to my face?” The BVB man put her phone down and took a sip of his wine and his girl did an about-face across the counter with a towel in her hands and a sorry, sad look on her face.

“I was hating it here when he asked me to go back for the match,” she explained, steady rather than protesting, or defensive. “It was before we talked the other day. I wanted to go back and be somewhere I’m happy for a day so that I wouldn’t just keep getting more frustrated and bored and lonely here. I had no plans to go anywhere until Omaha, because I know just leaving isn’t giving us a chance.”

“I don’t know why you can’t just tell me that something is wrong and give me a chance to help improve it. I don’t know why you have to just keep it to yourself and wait for me to figure it out while you run off and hide from it.”

“I did tell you. I told you on Thursday, and you have made it better. He asked me to come to the game an hour before we talked.”

“Yes, because you decided to tell him about it first. You called him when you were unhappy instead of me.”

“You were at training.”

“There was a time when you would have decided to wait and speak to me first, is all I’m saying. Protecting us used to be your priority.”

“And all that got me was 7 months of unhappiness and terrible riding. Sometimes I have to protect myself first, babe. Once in a while I have to put myself first instead of us, otherwise it actually gets harder for us.”

“Fine.” André picked up his fork and went back to his dinner. If the temperature of his fish were any indication, he wouldn’t have to wait very long to cover the leftovers. Christina even heated his plate first before putting the food on it, so the stuff in the containers was probably even colder. He had things to consider, and he didn’t want to hear any additional input from her. He wasn’t going to conclude that it was his fault that his girl was falling for someone else, but he wasn’t going to blame her for it either. For one thing, he gave her his blessing to have almost any kind of relationship with Juan that she wanted. For another, it wasn’t like things between them were great and she was still looking for something else. Christina was trying to tell him that it almost was like that, actually, because she really did believe she just loved being with the Spaniard and it had nothing to do with her husband, but he refused to believe that. Things were not good for them, and she was like pressure. She always sought to equalize herself. She’d always reach out for something good to counteract that which made her feel bad. Her husband knew his decisions and behavior over the previous year were responsible for the bad. Even before they decided to leave London, he stopped really engaging with her career and her passion, and that started the fights that existed in the background when it was time to start figuring out their future and the future of his career. He saw that when they began their horse show holiday. And he wasn’t like Juan. He didn’t believe that the strength of a relationship should lie in how it adapts to tough times. He believed it wasn’t fair to judge anything when their lives were so abnormal. For 7 months he’d been telling himself and his wife that they would be fine once they were together, and he needed that to happen for more than a week before he was willing to accept that their relationship couldn’t work anymore. Christina’s growing closer to his old friend did hurt him, a lot. He hated hearing everything she said. He’d fought through worse to hang onto her though, and he still wanted to hang on.

“Fine?”

“Chris, you haven’t been in love with me the way your phone pictures show you’re in love with him for like a year. Maybe until recently you just weren’t in love with anybody that way, and now it’s him. Or last spring you were in love with your career, and then no one, and now him. Whatever. I can’t really expect anything else when we haven’t been together enough in that time to be in love like we used to be. You have to do things together to be in love, and we don’t. Maybe I haven’t been in love with you for a long time either. I’ve always had to share you with the horses and with him. It’s fine. We start a new chapter now and as long as we treat each other like we want to be in love again, and we make decisions that go with that, then we’ll be good together again. That’s what I want. Like we said last week. The alternative is to separate, and then I don’t get what I want. So even though it’s hard, there is only one choice to take to possibly get what I want,” he finished up levelly, almost detached.

[standrewumcspokenword]

Testing the Waters

The year was 1999. I was in Esteli, Nicaragua.  I had gone there for language school, re-learning Spanish.   On this particular day, we drove out to a waterfall, and I hiked up to the top with the intention of diving down into the water below. What was on  my mind as I climbed was that I would graduate from school the next year, and I would be asked to take a plunge into something new.  I kept playing the tapes over and over as I walked up, “Where could I go?  What could I see myself doing?”  So, I stood at the top of the falls with my body tingling and my knees shaking, wondering “should I test the water”?  

 Maybe you’re at the top of the falls today. Maybe you’re starting something new in life, wondering where the waters will take you.

 As for me, I didn’t jump that day.  Maybe it was remembering Jesus’ temptation and something about not putting God to the test.  But a few weeks after climbing those falls, after language school, I was offered a one-month placement in a farmhouse in a village up in the mountains near Matagalpa – a farmhouse that had an outhouse for a toilet, an outdoor bucket shower that was barely modest, and nights that were full of sneezy allergens in the air and creepy crawlies on the floor. But I jumped at the chance to go.  And because of that, I jumped into mission work. And I jumped into pastoring.  That climb that day to the waterfall even though I didn’t go down into the water, it set the tone for what the future would be, going to places that weren’t comfortable.

 The decisions you make today could set the tone for your life, defining your values. It’s a time of testing. Today, if I can convince you of anything it’s that what Jesus went through in his testing can intersect with your own life. I hope you can see yourself in this scripture as it becomes alive in who you are.

 If today doesn’t convince you, let me invite you back over the next few weeks and all throughout Lent. We’ll see Ruth & Naomi who had their moment of decision, their moment of testing.  The Woman at the Well, which is a different story than you might think, and end with three Hebrew children Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. The decisions they made, the tests they endured, rippled out and impacted not just their lives, but they are a part of the fabric of our faith.  If it weren’t for each of them, we would be different today.  My hope is that the time of testing will be a way for you to test the waters, to see what new thing God might have in store for you and that your choices will makes waves that push others, too.

 We start with Jesus’ temptation.  That test comes to Jesus by way of the one we call “the tester” or accuser. Usually we just say the Hebrew word without translating it “tester” and call it – Satan or ha-satan.  In some Hebrew scripture, that figure was in God’s court, God’s entourage. It was his job to prove people’s faithfulness. When God looked down and saw Job and said, “surely there’s no one like him.”  Then that tester said, hey God, how about I test him for you, to prove his faithfulness. God says, sure.  You remember the story.  Job had everything taken away, was accused even by three of his friends of doing something wrong, but he remained faithful.  

 So Jesus is being tested and accused today with three temptations.  

 In the first one, Jesus is fasting.  He’s hungry. Really hungry, not faking it.  He’s not some spiritual being who never feels hungry like us. He’s really hungry.  And the tester says to him, hey, those smooth stones look like bread. Why don’t you, you know… make them really bread.  

 Now, the thing about temptation is that there are two qualities that have to be in play – you have to really want it AND you have to have some ability to make it happen.  You can’t tempt me with skydiving. I don’t want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane.  And you can’t tempt me with a Tesla. An electric car that uses no fossil fuel AND drives itself – that’s something I would want – but it’s not a possibility right now.  Giving to church, kids, mortgage, those come first, and time with Julia.  Jesus definitely wanted to eat.  And he had the power to make those stones into bread.  He had the power to bend the laws of nature.  

 The temptation here is to break the laws of nature to suit his own craving, not about the purpose God intends.  It’s a question about the tone of his ministry.  Will God work within the laws of nature or will God just magically transform the way the stuff of the world works.  Will God work with us, in human flesh, or just wipe us off the face of the earth once again?  No more flood, the fire next time?  Jesus chose instead to limit his own power and to go without.  To stop the consumption.

 We still have this temptation.  Think about when we talk about climate change and how we hear some say, “it’ll work out.” Somebody will invent a cure. Science will save us.  We put our faith in some magic cure when the cure we need might be fasting.  To stop. To stop using creation for our own ends and remember that we don’t live by bread alone.  We live by hearing the words God give us about caring for this earth and each other.

 It’s a temptation that can spill over into other parts of life, too.  Will you bend the law to how it suits you?  We get this test at least once a year when we fill out our taxes. With kids growing up, every now and then we take a trip to Goodwill to drop off old toys. They give you a slip without much on it and you fill it out yourself.  I could put on there that those toys were worth what I paid for them. But I know that’s not right.  We get a chance to set the tone again.  Now, tax law isn’t God’s law, just as Jesus said we weren’t made for the Sabbath, but it was something carved out for us.  But I do think we get this temptation many times every day. We get a chance to set the tone.  Will you be honest? Will you work to live with integrity in what you do?  Don’t worry what everybody else does.  What will you do?

 The tester took Jesus up to a high part of the Temple.  There obviously would’ve been many others around that area.  I have to say that we’re not totally clear what this temptation is about.  Jesus would’ve thrown himself down and according to Psalm 91:11-12, God wouldn’t let that righteous person dash their foot against a stone.  

 Why would Jesus be tempted by doing something like that? What did he want and what could he do?  Most scholars agree that it’s probably a test of a public demonstration of religious power, one that would’ve convinced everyone, including the religious leaders, of Jesus’ status. That one act would prove he is right. It is a temptation to be seen as right.  Especially through coercive power.  I’m sure none of us are ever tempted to prove we’re right and someone else is wrong.  None of you are ever tempted in that way, right?

 But think of it. If Jesus could prove he’s right, that would’ve meant that he wouldn’t need to endure 3 years of teaching and then be killed.  He wouldn’t need to work with their minds, with the folks who ticked him off, with disciples who never seemed to understand.  One act, and done.  That’s tempting.  One act and he’s proven who he is, tested God’s faithfulness… but that’s it, isn’t it? You move from being God to testing God… using the satan’s own means to prove you’re the greatest.  Using the tester’s interpretation of scripture to prove himself right.  Jesus tells him, “it is written… don’t put God to the test.”

As I said, we’re not completely sure what this temptation is about.  Perhaps you’ve heard others.  A couple of weeks ago, I read a statistic that grabbed me as I read this.  It talked about suicide, which Jesus being tempted to throw himself down sounds a bit like a temptation to suicide.  Do you know which age group has the highest rate of suicide? It’s men from 45 to 54. [1] That same group is responsible for over a third of all deaths by alcohol poisoning.[2]  It can be easy to lose our way… but I’m encouraged by many of you who have found meaning after that.  You found it in your service here at church and in the way you help others. You’ve found recovery in those who sponsor you and walk with you through those times, who show you grace, and who remind you it does get better.  At every age.

 By the way, suicide is also the second-highest cause of death among young adults 15-34, especially young gays and lesbians, who are four times more likely than their straight peers to attempt suicide.[3] Many who attempt suicide cited the stigma they felt around being gay, a stigma especially by the church, as being what pushed them out on that ledge. Maybe you read the same study I did two weeks ago that over the last two years, the suicide attempts by gay young adults has decreased dramatically – all because of the legalization of same-gender marriage. [4]  

 As much as we as Christians may disagree about whether God sanctions same-sex marriage in church, I pray that we don’t fall prey to that temptation of wanting to be right above anything else.  Because I believe that all of us can agree, as our United Methodist Discipline says, that all persons are created with sacred worth.  You are sacred.  You don’t lose that by anything you do.  Don’t ignore that special, sacredness of who you are in your complete person.  And as for the church, I’m reminded of the Apostle Paul who in I Corinthians 9:22 that “I have become all things to all people that I may save some.”

Maybe we can fast from the need to be right.  Fast from the need to prove we are more pious than anyone else.  Fast from the need to prove ourselves in front of everybody else to convince them and control them.  So that together we can see God’s sacred worth in each person come to full fruition.

 There is one more temptation, a last one. The tester, the Satan, took Jesus up to a high mountain and claimed to have all authority that he could give Jesus if he just bowed down to him. This same temptation will come up in a few weeks as we look at a king who thought he had the same power and all bowed down except three Hebrew children named Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. The tester is a deceiver here, though. Just like rulers past and present, that satan is claiming the authority that is God’s alone.  Only God rules the world.  But most politicians and rulers like to think they do.  Would Jesus bow down to the political powers of his day?  Would salvation only come through politics?

 I’m sure none of us ever get caught up in that temptation today.  We never discuss politics at all.  Jesus doesn’t identify with it, but he isn’t afraid to confront the Herods and the Emperors, even reminding Pilate that he would have no power except what God alone allows him to have.  In his temptation, Jesus affirms that we will only serve God, who alone brings salvation, not some political reality.  Yes, we can improve it.  Yes, we must lift our voice to make it so. But don’t identify any party as God’s party. That’s right, God didn’t put anybody in power – neither Barack nor Donald.  God’s power resides in you and me to make a difference.  That’s why Jesus says the words from Deuteronomy, words written just after the Shema prayer that every child would pray at bedtime, words that would bind together the identity of the Hebrew people: worship the Lord your God and serve only him.  

 Today, we’re testing the waters.  We’ve seen how Jesus endured testing.  Whether he would work with others, within God’s creation.  He limited himself when it came to bread, treating creation as something to work with rather than transform.  He was tested whether he would be right or helping other see the right. And he was tested with whether he would be strong alone or whether he would work with others to bring about God’s lasting change.  

 What about you, today? As you are confronted and tested, will you take the plunge?  Will you know your own limits, work with others and come in from trying to go it alone? Will you be willing to fast from all the things that have held you back – fasting from the fear, the voices turning over how bad things are, fasting from the pessimism, fasting from the need to be right, and turn to the ones around you, feasting with your neighbors, seeing what amazing things God can do?  The new life that God can bring, even in the midst of death?

 We’re at the top looking down.  Will you let this day set a new tone for how you will live?

  [1] https://www.cdc.gov/injury/wisqars/pdf/10lcid_all_deaths_by_age_group_2010-a.pdf

[2] https://www.cdc.gov/vitalsigns/alcohol-poisoning-deaths/

[3] http://www.cnn.com/2017/02/22/health/teen-suicide-same-sex-marriage-study-trnd/. https://www.cdc.gov/injury/wisqars/pdf/10lcid_all_deaths_by_age_group_2010-a.pdf

[4] http://www.cnn.com/2017/02/22/health/teen-suicide-same-sex-marriage-study-trnd/.

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Valentine’s Day Outtake with Matis and Justin

Happy Valentine’s Day. While as I write this a murder happens in Exit to the Right, I looked to the past for this outtake. It is a scene in which Matis and Justin make a decision that ultimately will propel them into the action of the series. At this moment though, it is all just fun and love to put you too into the right mood for the day to come. 

Since the very beginning, there had always been a third party in bed with Matis and Justin – time. At first, they had to wait for the right point in time to come together. Then, they had to steal time to be together.

This afternoon was no exception. Justin had been scheduled to be out in the field with yet another army operation, but he’d been pulled in the last minute. Matis hadn’t asked questions when he received his call. It had been too long since they had last enjoyed more than an hour of privacy together.

He had set about to cancel some clients. The ladies had not been happy to miss their appointment with their fitness coach. But they better started looking for a replacement anyway. While the coaching had become a lucrative side business, not least because the ladies were willing to pay absurd sums for time with him, he had started it to put himself through school after he quit the army himself. School was almost done.

Just a few more exams and papers and he could leave the ladies, their batted eye lashes and not as well disguised touches as they believed behind. He already had an interesting job offer for the time after, with a wage that could support Justin and him. Justin could quit the army too, take some time to find something different that suited him. They could be together, out in the open.

They hadn’t talked about it yet though. No time. It wasn’t something to be dealt with on the phone. This afternoon, after reminding Justin what they missed out on as it was, would offer the perfect opportunity to change that.

“I met someone the other day,” Justin said with his eyes peeled on the ceiling. He had cleared his throat after their lips had parted, and his fingers had dug into Matis’ shoulder. “A man called Flo.”

Matis shot up from his pillow, leaving the warmth behind. “And you tell me that in bed, while you hold me in your arms?” With a growing pout he hugged his blanket covered knees. His eyes searched for the window’s light in the gap between the drawn curtains. “At least I had a good influence on you.”

Justin shifted behind him, but Matis didn’t look until the other man kissed his bare shoulder. When he turned his head, the play of light and shadow on Justin’s face highlighted the glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “You did, but not like you think,” Justin breathed in Matis’ ear before falling back flat onto the bed. “It was more of a job interview.”

Matis’ eyes went wide. “What? You seriously consider leaving the army?”

“Well,” Justin stretched the word to unknown lengths while his hands made room for it in the air above him. “You know that I always understood and approved your reasons to take the step. I just, you know,” his forehead creased. His eyes flitted through the room until they met Matis’. “I didn’t see any alternatives for me that would – like, you know – fulfill me.”

“And this Flo has an alternative on offer?” Matis laid back down on his side, his head propped up on one hand.

Justin grinned. “It’s tempting.”

“Spill already,” Matis ordered with a push to Justin’s shoulder.

“This Flo wants to set up a secret operation, targeting a powerful and well-connected businessman of whom all accusations roll off like dirt rolls off the most expensive toilet bowls. A Duke Vlad.”

“Lovely,” Matis nodded. He hadn’t heard of this man, but had already a couple of ideas where he would dig for information once back at his computer. Everyone left traces. “His crimes?”

Justin’s face darkened. “Weapons in, humans out – he makes money of it all, without regard for lives.”

“Evidence?” Matis asked.

“Enough, but nothing that ever held up in court.”

“A really precious china bowl, I see.” It would be a joy to take him down, that was if the offer made to Justin had any substance. “And this Flo has the means to deliver?”

Justin turned onto his side so that he faced Matis. “He’s special. He runs this small, but potent and experienced group. And he has a sound plan, how to place me inside the target’s operations.”

“Why not one of his men?” Matis inquired.

“He needs a new face.”

Matis reached out and touched Justin’s cheek. It was glowing, mirroring the glimmer of excitement in Justin’s eyes. “You want to do it, I can tell. So why the hesitation?”

Justin caught Matis’ withdrawing hand, who kept a smile on his face, albeit it was a bit insecure in the face of Justin’s enthusiasm of the thing the other man had to offer. Justin kissed his palm before he said, “It’s a long-term commitment.”

“How long?”

Justin threaded their fingers together. “Forever.” His head began shaking without ever breaking their eye contact. “And I don’t do forever without you.”

With lowered eyes Matis asked, “What would you want me for, for an eternity?”

Justin pulled himself closer, using their joined hands. “Let’s see.” He lifted one finger to tip Matis’ head up. “I would use some time to fall into your eyes. Maybe then I would have a chance to determine their exact color.”

“What do you mean?” Matis’ eyebrows knitted together, creating some lines on top of his nose. “They are brown.”

“Not simply brown. Some days they have the golden shimmer of an autumn wood. Then again, they are like double choc brownie with salty caramel. That’s when they are not as sweet as nougat toffee. Though I have seen them as black and hot as my morning coffee.”

Matis covered Justin’s mouth with their hands. “OK, OK, I see. But that can take only like – I don’t know,” he shrugged, “a couple of years. Eternity lasts for a bit longer.”

“Well,” Justin pulled his lower lip through his teeth and winked. “Next I would sample the exact taste of your lips.”

Matis freed his hand and waved it through the air. “Of course, after all this talk of chocolates, fudges, caramels and toffees you must be hungry. I’d be,” he said demonstratively nonchalantly. He looked up and down Justin’s body. Back up at his head he licked his lips.

“How hungry?” Justin smoldered.

Matis smoothed the sheet between them, closing slowly in to the rim of the blanket. “Hungry enough to taste more than just your lips.”

Shortly before Matis’ fingers reached the blanket Justin pushed it further down, revealing more of himself. “What else?” He caught Matis hand before it was clear for what it was heading. “But remember, we have an eternity to fill. Plenty of time to consume the main course.”

Matis sat up, placed his behind into the best light and crawled down. At the foot of the bed he discarded the blanket onto the floor. Kneeling down on it, he looked up between Justin’s legs. “I was always very drawn to your toes.”

“Toes?” Justin pushed himself onto his elbows. His bun flopped in the moment his eyebrow peaked.

“Yes, toes,” Matis laughed. He took one of the big toes between his thumb and finger and followed its outline. “They are exceptionally well shaped. True masterpieces that hold a lot of promise.”

“Promise for what?”

“Other, well-shaped and well sized body parts?” Matis explained haltingly.

One of Justin’s hands flew up to his face. “My nose?”

Matis pursed his lips in innocence. “I was going for your shoulders. But as you are mentioning it, they claim a correlation between the size of the nose and,” he motioned up the legs, “another important part.”

Justin’s eyes followed Matis’ glance to his middle. “You think it’s time for the entrée then?”

“Several helpings of it,” Matis nodded.

“You’re greedy,” Justin chided Matis, but pulled him back up onto the bed.

-

When they came back up for air next, the bubble of their little world still glowing in them and around them, Matis lifted his head from Justin’s chest and asked, “So? How do we make eternity ours?”

Justin, one hand under his head and one holding Matis tightly, replied, “We take it – with courage, cunning, and trust in the other.”

“What? We barge right in?”

“Basically,” Justin nodded and a grin broke on his face. “You sneak up on them, proving one part of your skills. It’s not like there is any risk at all. They are expecting me, even offered to pay for my flight to Mallorca where Duke Vlad lives.”

Matis took a moment to think about it. In the end, he too grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “Sounds like a plan.”

Justin reached for their glasses on the side table. They held red wine which he raised. “On eternity.”

“On us, together forever.”

If you now want to read more about the two http://my.w.tt/UiNb/sH2vHuUZJA